


Unlikely, But Not Impossible

by theagonyofblank



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-29
Updated: 2006-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><span class="u">
<br/><b>Unlikely,  but Not Impossible</b>
<br/></span></p>
    </blockquote>





	1. The First Task

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **Unlikely, but Not Impossible**   
> 

"She's a _veela_!" Ron exclaimed, red in the face and breathlessly. It had just been a few hours since the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and Ron unsurprisingly had already managed to find a girl to fawn over, desire for from afar. Him, and most of the male population of Hogwarts.

"Of course she isn't!" Hermione was quick to snap in reply, the corners of her lips tugging downwards. (She could've sworn that the girl had sent her an almost shy smile when she visited the table, but perhaps that was just a figment of her imagination. Anyway, it didn't matter, for all Hermione had done was glare back.) Hermione did notice Harry raising an eyebrow enquiringly in her direction now, as though trying to figure out what was on her mind, but she showed no sign of having paid him any attention at all. Instead she watched, still frowning, as the pretty Beauxbatons girl walked off, her hips swaying from side to side.

Hermione was vaguely aware of Ron rambling on, most likely something about the pretty French girl, but she tuned him out, looking back down at her meal. Without thinking she started, "Ron, would you pass the bouillabaisse?" When she looked up, she was met only by his incredulous stare, as well as Harry's. "What?" she snapped, frown forming again.

"Hermione…" Harry began slowly, uncertainly.

It was then she remembered that Ron, the bloody idiot he was, had just given the French girl the remaining bouillabaisse. "Oh. Right," she sighed now, cutting off any further explanations Harry might try to offer her, her annoyance replaced by quiet resignation. If only she knew how things would just continue to be like this for the rest of the year.

* * *

"Ron, would you _stop_ stuffing your face?" Hermione admonished as she took her seat, late for dinner because she'd decided to take a shower before coming down. She looked at Harry almost imploringly for help, but rolled her eyes when he only laughed. The red-haired boy she was addressing turned to her curiously, but then turned back to his food when he realized that she was just looking to pick a fight. Something of the sort, anyway. "The Triwizard Champions are about to be chosen, honestly…"

"Yeah?" began Ron as he swallowed a mouthful, turning to focus on Hermione. "Then why were _you_ late, if this is so important to you?" He eyed a turkey leg and using his wand, levitated a piece over to himself, causing a younger boy in the House to yelp in surprise and stare at him in shock.

Hermione, watching the staff table, had noticed Professor Dumbledore getting up at this point and thus didn't make any attempt to answer. Soon the headmaster's deep voice filled the room, speaking a little about the Triwizard Tournament. He had most everyone's rapt attention… except Harry's, for some reason.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. Ron has a point," Harry pushed, watching Hermione for her reaction. "Where _have_ you been?"

Hermione let out a derisive sort of snort, but other than that said nothing. There wasn't any sort of secret to keep; she had just gone to take a shower – that was that. Of course, she had forgotten that she'd charmed her hair dry, so it didn't have that stringy look. But now wasn't the time to be talking. She lifted a finger to her lips and shushed her friend, gesturing towards the professor to signal that Harry should listen. And seeing no way not to, Harry turned his attention to the headmaster.

"Any second."

Hermione turned towards the source of the voice, and smiled back at the grinning face. Lee Jordan; briefly she wondered if he had entered his name– he seemed the type who would, and he was of age.

Then suddenly the flames in the goblet, usually a clear, crystal blue, turned red. Red and gold sparks flew from it, and a long dancing flame shot from the goblet's center, and with the flame came a small piece of parchment. Hermione could hear everyone in the room collectively inhaling, and holding their breaths there.

"The champion for Durmstrang… will be Viktor Krum."

A loud cheering came from the Slytherin table first, then spread to the rest of the tables. Ron jumped up, yelling something inaudible over the other cheers of other students. Hermione couldn't help but grin; this really was quite exciting, if she let herself go and just enjoy herself. Viktor Krum rose from his seat and walked to the front of the room, where he was directed towards the small chamber in the back. Soon enough, the claps and roars died down and once again all eyes were focused on the goblet.

Once again, a red tongue of flame shot out, and another piece of parchment accompanied it. "The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour!" A loud commotion, cheers and whatnot, were once again yelled. Hermione frowned, wondering why it was that girl who got to be one of the Champions. It had to be the person she absolutely hated… And as she watched Fleur gracefully glide up to the front of the room, and then disappear into the adjoining chamber, a funny sort of fluttering feeling hit her. But as soon as it had come, it was gone, and she looked towards the table at which the Beauxbatons students were sitting; some of them looked very upset – a few were even crying.

Not too long after Fleur had taken her leave, a silence fell over the Great Hall once again. Now was the moment – the moment to decide who the Hogwarts champion was. Would it be Lee Jordan? Or perhaps Cedric Diggory; Hermione knew he had entered his name into the goblet. She placed her hands in her lap, watching the goblet as it shot out another piece of parchment that Professor Dumbledore caught neatly. She bit her lip, and moments later, Professor Dumbledore boomed, "And the Hogwarts champion… is Cedric Diggory!"

A loud applause rang out over the hall, and Cedric stood, laughing as his friends cheered loudly and clapped him on the back. Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, large grin in place – though she did note briefly that Ron didn't look very happy at this. She saw Cedric make his way into the next room, and when the applause had finally died down, Professor Dumbledore spoke again.

Only, he was interrupted when the goblet shot out yet another name. Confused, she looked towards Harry and Ron, who looked equally confused. A fourth champion? A quizzical look crossed her face. This wasn't quite right; weren't there only supposed to be three?

"Harry Potter."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she glanced at Harry, who looked positively terrified. The headmaster repeated the boy's name, sounding none too pleased, but Harry refused to budge from the spot. Gently shoving him forward, though she was still confused as to what was going on, she watched as her best friend unsurely walked towards the staff table.

This wasn't quite right.

* * *

Hermione breathed in deeply as the double-doors slammed shut behind her, allowing the familiar warmth and smell of the library wash over her. She felt safe in here – no one dared make a noise due to Madam Pince's hawklike watch on every single girl or boy in the room, much less any drawling talk about her bushy hair or bookish ways. As grateful as she was for Madam Pince's ever-alert presence, she couldn't say she took well to the woman, nor vice versa, so as soon as the librarian's squinting gaze fell upon her form, she nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement before rushing off to one of the shelves, running her fingers over the book spines and pausing only when she found something of interest.

" _Oui_ , ze librarian can be a bit… intimidating, non?"

Hermione paused in her movements, holding her breath and stiffening visibly. She recognized that voice, and it served only as an annoyance. As per usual, she felt the heat rise in her, first merely annoyance, then quickly becoming frustration, before escalating to hatred. It was funny, really, because Fleur Delacour had said nothing to provoke Hermione. Not this time, anyway. But what about all those other times…? Hermione was quick to remind herself that she had plenty of reasons to despise the French witch. And of all the places to be, the bloody girl had to pick the Library! This was Hermione's sanctuary, and now it was being intruded upon. No longer would it serve as a haven from those stinging remarks made by Slytherins or other girls of years younger and older. No indeed; now Fleur Delacour would make this the place to torment Hermione with her shrill voice, grating on the Gryffindor's nerves with every second that passed.

"I suppose so," she replied coldly, plucking out a red book from the shelf and setting it down on a desk nearby, quietly seating herself shortly thereafter. The weeks had passed since the day of the selection, and she had far too many things on her mind – from how Harry had become one of the _four_ Triwizard champions, and how in Merlin's beard the professors had allowed this! Dumbledore had said he would make sure no one underage could enter, right? So how could this happen? She knew there was only one way – it was obvious that Dumbledore's age line had worked, from the massive beards Fred and George had sprouted after attempting to enter their names… So an older student had to have done it. But who? And why?

Unfortunately, the studious Gryffindor wasn't given the time to contemplate this as Fleur had taken to speaking again, her dark blue orbs glancing towards the brunette briefly, before looking away. It was odd behavior for the usually-bold and –rude girl, Hermione had to admit. But the petite Gryffindor shook her head, turning all of her attention now on the words that flowed from the French girl's mouth.

"…the library."

Oops. A bit too late to try to listen to the girl, since it was obvious that Fleur was done. The girl had turned now to Hermione with a raised brow, causing a flush to spread across Hermione's cheeks. "I- I'm sorry. What did you say?" Such words, coming from Hermione, were foreign. Hardly had she ever uttered these words – usually she was the one to pay attention (or not pay attention and never ask what had just been said), and her friends not to… So she could sigh in mock disdain as she repeated herself. But not so this time.

Fleur looked amused, and at this Hermione bristled inwardly. Amused! The gall the damned girl had! "I noticed you like to spend your time in ze library," Fleur kindly repeated herself, her French accent elongating the 'i's a little. The kind tone she took on was not lost on Hermione, who only seemed to be more infuriated at the other girl's kindness. She took it as pity. But the Gryffindor girl tried to calm herself, and her voice was oddly, forcedly calm as she spoke next, "Yes. I like my alone time."

Hermione looked towards the French girl, who was a few inches taller than she, trying to read the older girl's expression. She thought she saw a hint of hurt for a fleeting second, but when she looked again whatever she thought she saw was gone, all evidence of it replaced with a cool exterior; Fleur's face was neutral. Hermione would have studied the other girl for a bit longer, but she was afraid Fleur would take her staring to mean something it was not – and then, to add to that, the girl would spread nasty rumours about her… She hardened at the thought, and refused to look at the French girl even when the girl spoke to her.

"I see," Fleur replied slowly, her eyes serious. Not that Hermione noticed this; the bushy-haired brunette was far too _interested_ in the book she was reading. Chewing on her lower lip for a few moments, Fleur pondered what she could do. She got the hint; she didn't need Hermione to repeat herself. But the thing was, she didn't really want to leave. She stayed on a few more moments, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and waiting for the Gryffindor to say anything – anything at all. But when nothing came, she suppressed a sigh and added instead, "Very well then. I shall see you later, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up at that, and Fleur flashed the girl a brief smile, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and left. Hermione watched as Fleur left, scowling deeply. She was glad, relieved almost, one could say, that the other girl had left, but for some reason what Fleur had called her as she said her goodbyes bothered her. _Miss Granger_. It sounded so impersonal, like she didn't care. Hermione shook her head, annoyed that she had allowed Fleur to get to her like this. Since when had she cared about what Fleur called her? Speaking of which, how did Fleur know her name? It was only logical that she knew Fleur's; the girl was a bloody Champion and pretty much famous around the school for that, as well as her part-Veela heritage. She filed this little piece of information away for later use, watching as the blonde-haired girl found another corner of the library to sit, causing Hermione's frown to deepen.

* * *

Fleur quietly made her way over to another side of the library, making sure she could still see the Gryffindor girl from wherever she was seated. Before she situated herself at a table, however, she had chosen a book – The History of Charms – to read. She'd always loved reading, even as a little child. Anyone could attest to that. Perhaps that was why she excelled so in so many of her classes. She flipped open the book to the first page, and started there, glancing in the direction of her object of interest every so often. She made a point to make sure Hermione wasn't looking her way when she looked up, though once or twice she had stared too long and abruptly had to tear her gaze away from the girl as she stared right back at her, a blush colouring the half Veela's cheeks as she looked back down at her reading again.

"She doesn't like you, you know."

Fleur sighed at this, placing a hand to her temple and rubbing it, before responding, "Hello Gabrielle." She looked at her sister and forced a smile; usually she never had to – she always loved seeing Gabrielle, but her sister could be overprotective a lot of the time, and this was one of them. "How did you find me?" she asked tiredly, blue eyes regarding her sister with a hint of curiosity.

"It's not hard," the younger French girl continued, tucking a dark blonde strand behind her ear. "You watch her all the time, you try to find out more about what classes she takes, what she likes…" She stopped abruptly as Fleur sent her a cold glare, but then added in a small voice, "Okay. Fine. I know you like books." Fleur seemed more pleased with this answer, and leaned back in her seat. "But you still-"

"I don't want to hear it, Gabrielle."

And with that she let out a sigh, folding her arms across her chest and sitting there for a minute, just like that. She glanced at the empty spot Hermione had been sitting in not too long ago… Then got up, returned the book to its original place, and left the library, her little sister trailing behind her.

* * *

"Concentrate, Harry, _concentrate_ …" Hermione said imploringly for the umpteenth time that evening, determined to help her friend perform a proper Summoning Charm by the next day. Yet again the days had passed quickly, leading them all up to the First Task of the Tournament, which was – well – the very next day. Or, should one say later that afternoon. It was one in the morning already, and Harry was just barely starting to get the hang of summoning things, even though they had practiced since midafternoon (granted, they had taken a break because they still needed to attend classes).

" _Accio quill!"_ Harry tried, and for the second time in this session, the object he summoned zoomed towards him. He grinned at Hermione, who had a cheerful but tired expression on her face – as though to say she still had some hope left in him. He tried again, summoning another quill, and then again, though this time with a chair. He had to duck out of the way as the chair came zooming towards him, and lowered his wand. The chair crashed to the ground a few feet away from him, and right in front of Hermione, who merely raised an eyebrow and shook her head at him.

Finally, around two o'clock in the morning, Hermione exclaimed, "That's loads better, Harry." And repeated this a few times; she was so tired. She collapsed onto one of the chairs that remained intact from Harry's summons, closing her eyes. But sleep didn't come to her – not that she was trying to sleep in this empty classroom, but she had expected… well, for her mind to be blank. However, all she could think of was Fleur – and she told herself not in that sort of way, because how could she ever like someone like that? And how would Fleur ever like someone like her? – and their (what was now becoming) frequent meet-ups in the library. Usually Fleur was the one who approached her first (after the first time they'd met, Hermione was genuinely surprised that Fleur didn't hate her), but lately Hermione had been going up to the French girl, taking the lead of sorts, as well. An uneasy sort of friendship had formed: unexpected, but surprisingly not unwelcome.

"Harry, we'd better get some sleep. You're going to need it…" Hermione yawned, stretching her hands over her head as she got up and headed to the door, slowly, carefully opening it and peering out to make sure no one was there. She stepped outside the room then, gesturing for Harry to follow along, and the two of them silently made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

The day of the First Task went along very quickly, speeding along like a blur. And try as she might, Hermione couldn't quite recall what had taken place in her classes, or even what their homework was – and she hoped they didn't have any, because she certainly would not have it done if they did. She was as excited as the rest of the school, but almost as nervous as the Champions themselves. Because now not only did she have one friend to worry about, she had two. The second 'friend,' of course, was debatable, but Hermione did worry about Fleur – even if she didn't admit it to herself.

By late afternoon the students and staff of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang were all ushered into the stadium stands. Hermione made sure to keep close to Ron, Ginny, and Neville, not wanting to get separated from them and having to watch the tournament alone. As they rushed over to get the seats near the front, the three of them chanced glances down into the pit. Hermione bit her lip nervously; it certainly _looked_ ominous, and she was sure being in there felt worse.

"Bloody hell," Neville murmured in awe, and perhaps some intimidation.

And for some reason, just this one comment from the boy made Hermione feel worse – threefold. What would happen to Harry? She had no doubt that the charm would work, but dragons were unpredictable creatures – like all creatures, she supposed. And if Harry wasn't careful, he could get hurt. She looked at Ginny, Ron, and Neville, worry evident on her face, and now she saw, on theirs too. She didn't even want to think about Fleur; the girl was a bit older than Harry, and certainly had more experience in spellcasting, but that didn't stop Hermione from worrying about her, too.

The Gryffindor girl was so caught up in her thoughts that when the whistle blew, she nearly jumped out of her own skin in surprise and fright. Ginny held on to her in an attempt to stable her, and she sent her friend a smile to let her know she was okay. But her friend's grip didn't loosen; in fact, it only tightened throughout the task. She didn't mind, though, knowing Ginny needed someone to squeeze the living daylights out of when the "scary" moments came. Hermione gasped and hid behind her hands as the dragon breathed fire directed at Diggory, the Hufflepuff boy, afraid he would get hurt. But he managed to get the object he was supposed to – the egg – without too much harm.

And next up… Next up was none other than Miss Fleur Delacour. She only knew so because that was what Mr. Bagman announced. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, and her heart skipped a few beats. This time, it was her turn to clutch at Ginny, who raised an eyebrow at her curiously. It was well-known, after all, that Hermione didn't take well to Fleur. But certainly she didn't hate her so much so as to be excited at the prospect… at the possibility… of Fleur dying? No, no; that couldn't be so. "Ow, Hermione," Ginny began, prying Hermione's fingers off of her arm, "It hasn't even begun yet – Fleur's not even out of the tent yet, and you're already hurting me…"

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, sounding and even looking apologetic as well. It was then that the second whistle blew, and Hermione, making sure to keep her hands to herself, clung onto the wooden support in front of her, watching worriedly as Fleur appeared, cautiously making her way around the rocky pit. The Gryffindor watched the French witch's every movement, from the way her wand flicked to the way she skirted around the edge of the pit to get to the egg, avoiding the dragon just in case the charm she placed upon the dragon lifted. But nevertheless, the dragon happened to snore in its sleep, and with this came a blast of flame that shot from its nostrils, setting her skirt alight. The crowd gasped and so did Hermione; the girl even went so far as to rise a little in her seat. But Fleur put it out without much fuss, and then she, too, got her egg. Hermione allowed a sigh of relief, and her eyes followed the girl's form as she made her way back to the tent.

Then it was Krum's turn. The Bulgarian was quick to hit the dragon in the eye with some sort of spell, and the crowd applauded – until the dragon stumbled forward, and trampled its own eggs. Which Hermione thought was unfortunate, for otherwise Krum had done well. As Krum's scores were given, Hermione couldn't help but drift off slightly, wondering how Fleur was doing. But it was Harry's turn next, and Hermione had no wish to go running off to see Fleur, even if she wanted to, when her good friend was going to be battling a dragon.

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she saw the dragon Harry had to face; it looked much more dangerous than the others, and certainly its temperament did not seem any better. As soon as the whistle blew and Harry was out there, she watched him, willing with all her might for him to summon the broom. And he did. Not too long later, his Firebolt came speeding into the stadium, and swiftly and easily, Harry jumped on it, flying around until he, too, had grabbed his egg. The crowd cheered – he had made fastest time, and he was the youngest Champion – and just like that, the First Task was over.

* * *

After saying goodbye to Ginny and Neville, Hermione and Ron made their way down to the first-aid tent, recounting the different ways each Champion had chosen to get their egg and each attempting to out-yell the other as they debated who the best of all was (they had at first started out with how Ron should apologize to Harry, but things progressed from there). Well, they didn't touch on Harry. They had a silent agreement that Harry was obviously the best of them all, but excluding him, the other three Champions were fair game. Hermione took Fleur's side naturally – it only seemed right, and if Fleur couldn't have first place because Harry, as a long time friend, took that spot, then Hermione was determined to make her second place … though really it didn't matter if Ron agreed with her or not.

"How could you say _Fleur_ should get second place? Harry's tied with Krum for first place, and Krum didn't get hurt t'all!" Ron exclaimed.

"Hey guys…" Harry began from where he sat, Madam Pomfrey still tending to his scrapes and minor burns. He began to get up, but Madam Pomfrey pushed him down firmly, telling him to sit. He did as he was told, watching his friends bicker back and forth.

"Hi Harry," Hermione turned to Harry briefly in acknowledgement, then turned back to Ron, protesting hotly, "Yes, but Krum's the one who got all the eggs trampled on!"

"Well, at least he didn't do himself 'ny physical harm!" Ron shot back.

"Since you love him so much and he's so perfect why don't you go _marry_ him!" Hermione threw her hands in the air, frustrated, and gestured for Harry to make some room so she could sit with him on the bed. Convinced that their argument was over, she turned towards Harry and began to form a question, when Ron, obviously not done yet, interrupted loudly.

"Well- since you love her so much, why don't you go marry _her_!"

Hermione coloured and nearly fell off the bed, and spluttered half-words back at him. Nothing came to mind, no good retort, no nothing. All she could think of was what Ron had said… and how much she wanted to clobber him. How embarrassing! What made things worse was the fact that both Fleur and Krum seemed to be in the vicinity, and both had peered over from their beds, watching Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Fleur in particular seemed amused, and she quirked a brow at Hermione, aquamarine eyes twinkling.

Still blushing from what had just happened, as well as from the grin she received from Fleur, Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, sending a steely gaze to Ron, and then asked, "Harry, how are you?" She glared at Ron again, and he was quick to clear his throat, though he said nothing, only eyeing Harry warily. "Boys!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. She gave Harry a light hug, so as not to hurt him, and then left him with Ron, trusting them to work things out. She, meanwhile, had another visitor to visit.

* * *

"Hermione," Fleur stated matter-of-factly with a hint of cheer as the girl came forward. The French girl settled back onto the pillow provided, smiling at this welcome distraction: her visitor. She patted one side of the bed, inviting the Gryffindor to sit there if she pleased, and then played with the strands of blonde that were gathered near her left breast. She looked away almost shyly as Hermione moved forward to sit, recalling what the girl's red-haired friend had said and how she wouldn't have minded it so much, even though she didn't know her as well as she would have liked, and then returned her gaze once again to the other girl's face.

"Fleur," Hermione breathed, glad to see that her friend was alive and well. "How are you? Were you burned… badly?" She wanted to tell Fleur how she'd wanted to come as soon as Fleur had left the stadium, but she didn't. She also wanted to hug Fleur, but she also didn't. All in due time, she supposed. Or… never. She tried to clear her thoughts as Fleur spoke once again.

"Not so bad," she laughed, and Hermione was surprised to find that it wasn't the annoying laugh she so hated. Instead it was one that tinkled, like wonderful bells. Fleur paused here, before continuing, "Madam Pomfrey… Ze is a good nurse, non? Ze will 'ave me fixed."

Hermione smiled, looking now at Fleur's face, her eyes tracing each and every contour, from her ears to her chin. And finally she looked where she had been avoiding all along: Into Fleur's eyes. She felt something she had never felt, felt something she never thought she would ever have felt. She felt safe, yes, but simultaneously she felt a sort of daring – like she could do anything, and as long as Fleur was there, everything would be fine. It was sort of cliché, like something one would read in books but never experience. Except that she was feeling it now. But then realizing she was staring, she gave a little nervous laugh and looked away.

Which was when Fleur sat up, her hand gently, just barely, brushing over the other girl's and causing them both to shudder ever so slightly. "I think…" she began, but then trailed off as she looked to one side of the tent. She smiled at Harry and Ron; she couldn't tell what exactly they were doing, but Ron was being animated and was making funny faces, which caused Fleur to giggle, and in return caused Hermione to roll her eyes but smile nonetheless.

"Tell me about what happened in the pit. When the others fought zere dragons."

Hermione looked surprised for a moment, and then graciously complied, adding the occasional stretch wherever she felt one was warranted. She and Fleur talked for a long time after that, not just about the First Task but about school, and books, and the like… And when it was time for supper, they both headed to the Great Hall, and sat at their respective tables, each wanting the other's company more than either would ever admit.

* * *


	2. The Yule Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Two**

Fleur couldn’t help but giggle, feeling lighthearted and very girlish indeed as she did a full-circle turn right in front of her friends, her silky blue skirt fluttering gracefully up and then back down with her movements. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, coquettish smile playing on her pink lips, as one of her friends leaned in closer to her, whispering something that only she and the other girls around her could hear. They all burst out into laughter simultaneously, all except for Fleur, who still held that same coy smile on her face, azure eyes twinkling brightly as they flicked from her friends and then to the pale-faced boy who approached the group of them.

 

Just a few days ago, Professor Flitwick had informed the Ravenclaw students, as well as those hailing from Beauxbatons, of the upcoming Yule Ball. Undoubtedly now the entire school knew as well; each Head of House had certainly told their students. And although Fleur had yet to be asked by anyone, no one in this group had any doubt of who was going to be asked, and the girls around Fleur might as well have just left her with the boy; that was the extent to which they knew this invitation was not for them. As the boy neared, the girls hushed and stepped back, allowing Fleur the boy’s full attention.

 

“H-hello,” the boy managed with little stammer. “F-Fleur?” Fleur raised a brow in acknowledgement, but waited for him to continue, knowing before he opened his mouth what would come out. He took in a breath, and then said as confidently as possible, “Would you fancy coming to the Yule Ball with me?” He stopped abruptly, looking at Fleur hopefully, though he did seem a bit uncomfortable, as now Fleur’s friends started chattering among themselves, grinning and whispering and watching Fleur to see what she would say.

 

Fleur knew she had almost every boy in Hogwarts wrapped around her finger; any little thing she wanted, she could get from them – this she knew, and this she had expected. After all, it had been so ever since her birth, and she had long since grown used to the attention showered on her by suitors, which happened to be nearly every boy, and the occasional girl, who set eyes on her. Frankly she had been more than a little surprised at the length of time it had taken the boy to gather the courage to ask her; it had already been a few days since the announcement of the Yule Ball, and he had been the first one to ask her there. Though she knew he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

 

She was aware of the hushed but excited voices behind her, and knew that she should give an answer sometime soon. The boy wasn’t going to wait forever – honestly, Fleur thought that if she made him wait any longer he would burst from the suspense. She knew her friends expected her to turn the boy down; that was her nature – she was a fickle person. He looked quite apprehensive, and deep down, the French witch felt badly for having to turn him down… She felt bad for having to turn down nearly every single person she had turned down in the past, though she had never once expressed this regret. More than once she had been regarded as cold and callous, one who received so much attention from hopeful suitors that she could pick and choose which one she wanted, or even charm those she wished to be with.

 

But this time she wasn’t doing that. She was turning him down, yes, and in hopes of someone else asking her, yes – but it wasn’t the same as all those other times. Now this time, she specifically had her eye on someone else. Not just hoping for any other student who was slightly more attractive, or more famous, or more popular. No… she knew exactly who she was waiting for. And if said person never got around to asking her to the ball, well – she would have to settle for someone else, because she was a Triwizard Champion, and there was no going without a dance partner.

 

“I’m very sorry,” she finally responded, looking at the boy. He met her eyes and was quick to look elsewhere, mumbling something about everything being okay, and fine. She watched as he turned and hastened to walk away, guessing that the boy was no doubt embarrassed. The girls who had been standing behind her throughout all this now clustered around her again, resuming their giggling and soft whispers. Placing a hand into her skirt pocket, Fleur turned her attention back to her friends and walked on, chattering happily with them, the encounter with the boy slowly fading from her mind as the seconds passed.

 

 

“So.”

 

Fleur looked up from her book as the voice began, and a small stack of books was placed on the table in front of her. A light smile lit her face as she was greeted by the sight of Hermione, cheeks flushed – most likely from running to the library from her latest class. Closing her book, Fleur regarded her friend with interest and questioning, and didn’t have to wait very long before the other girl continued speaking.

 

“I haven’t seen you of late.”

 

“Miss me already, Mademoiselle Granger?” Fleur teased lightly, grin playing on her lips, quirking one side upwards ever so slightly. Hermione reddened very slightly at the remark but rolled her eyes, which caused the French witch to chuckle. Fleur then leaned back in her chair, and with one hand reached up to her blonde hair, which fell around her shoulders down to her mid-back, and pulled the straight locks back into a loose ponytail. She placed the closed book on the table, on top of the stack already there, and regarded her friend with a polite look, which soon turned into a brilliant smile, “Don’t worry, I’ve been doing well.”

 

Hermione bit her lip, nodding and trying to quell the funny feeling that surfaced in her. She knew just how well Fleur had been doing; she had been witness to many a boy stopping and inviting the French girl to go to the Yule Ball with him. And what puzzled her was the fact that Fleur seemed to turn down each and every single one of them that had asked her – Hermione could tell by the distraught looks on their faces as they turned away from her. The Gryffindor girl knew that by now, the French witch would have already had a date… there was no questioning that. But she wondered who it was, for Fleur seemed quite happy indeed, and she took that to mean only one thing, the one thing she had already known: That she had a date, a date who made her quite happy indeed. Which made her happy for her friend, but yet sadness crept in at the edges, and she tried her hardest to ignore this strange feeling.

 

“How are you?” the French girl’s lips curved into a grin, as she lightly, cautiously prodded, “Do you ‘ave a date for the Ball already?” Fleur leaned in a bit closer at that, studying the brunette who was now seated in front of her, absently muttering, more to herself than to Hermione, “Such a pretty face; certainly you have someone?”

 

The brunette flushed, the heat rising from her chest and then claiming her neck and cheeks shortly after at Fleur’s remark. She averted her eyes, fidgeting under Fleur’s strong gaze. She wondered if the girl was joking about her having a date, because she’d assumed that everyone who knew her knew there was no way that _Hermione Granger_ would get a date – ever. That might just have been the Hogwarts student body talking, although to their credit, they had been rather surprised to hear that Neville had gotten a date before Hermione had. Which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but nonetheless she found the fact they’d thought her more capable of getting a date than Neville comforting to hear. But then she felt bad for thinking that way about Neville.

 

“No,” Hermione laughed nervously and halfheartedly, the butterflies rising in her stomach as she noticed Fleur play with a strand of her blonde hair. She looked up then and was surprised when her chocolate brown eyes met Fleur’s blue ones. “No date.”

 

“No date?” Fleur repeated with an arched brow, absolutely startled at the revelation – which Hermione found flattering, since it seemed her friend had such confidence in her. After the initial shock had worn off, Fleur thought about this information she had just received, and a wave of relief washed over her, though she was careful not to let any of it show. Instead she allowed her eyes to trail over the girl’s face again, before resting her head on one hand and allowing her gaze to fall on the books.

 

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” Hermione answered, a hint of irritation in her voice. Was Fleur really that clueless? She understood if the girl was trying to be friendly and supportive, like any other friend… but this was getting a bit much. Because it didn’t seem possible that Fleur could be that surprised and mean it. Hermione found herself thinking that at least with Harry and Ron, while they did try their hands at being supportive, they were honest with her, and wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t have a date for the Ball.

 

Fleur frowned at this, catching the annoyance in the other girl’s voice; whatever had caused Hermione to think she couldn’t ever have a date? If Fleur was brave enough, she would have asked the Gryffindor to be her date right then and there – but as things were, she couldn’t muster up the courage and instead felt her own share of irritation towards the girl. Hermione was pretty, anyone who looked twice could see that. Why did she have all this doubt? It seemed unnatural, and Fleur hated that the other girl was putting herself down as such. And before she could help herself, Fleur had blurted out rather bitingly, “Well, it’s no wonder no one’s asked you; listen to yourself!”

 

At this, Hermione stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor-boards and causing Madam Pince to send an angry glare their way. Hermione easily ignored the librarian, glaring angrily at Fleur, hurt that the girl could even say such a thing. The French girl was someone she liked, and if nothing else she’d thought she’d made a friend, but obviously she’d been mistaken. She was quick to snap back, “Well at least I’m not the one who goes around _rejecting_ every boy who asks her out! You are so bloody spoiled!”

 

“Rejecting _every_ boy?” Fleur snarled back, standing so quickly her chair fell back with a loud clatter. This was unbelievable. Hermione was being ridiculous. “I’ll have you know that the Davies boy has asked me, and you know what? _I said yes!_ ”

 

“Well – well, good for you!”

 

“I know,” Fleur glared angrily at Hermione, blue eyes ablaze, ignoring the fact that Madam Pince was now headed towards the two of them and threatening to hex them if they didn’t keep it down.

 

Hermione glared right back at Fleur, turning away briefly only to glance at Madam Pince, who was advancing with a raised wand. And then without another word, she stormed off, the twin doors slamming shut loudly in her wake. The blonde-haired girl stared after her, feeling her heart rate return to normal as she calmed down, closing her eyes as she slumped down into the chair she hadn’t knocked backwards, leaning her forehead against the stack of books that Hermione had left in her rage, breathing a soft yet frustrated, “ _Merde_!”

 

 

Fleur and Hermione spent the next week avoiding each other; or rather, Hermione spent the next week trying to avoid Fleur as much as was humanly possible. When she spotted the platinum-colored hair in the hallways, she would duck behind Harry or Ron, or if she was alone, took another corridor or hid behind a statue. She was aware of Fleur’s efforts to talk to her again, maybe apologize… But she wasn’t in the mood to hear the girl out. Nor was she about to apologize for what she had said to the other girl. She realized that the French girl had the books she had left that day in the library, but there was no way she was going to give in. There wasn’t a chance of her approaching the other girl to reconcile; not one bit. She would just send Harry in her place – not Ron, because the sight of him pining after Fleur made her angry, and she justified her anger as not wanting Ron to get hurt, but neither Harry nor Ginny seemed to buy the excuse, as was obvious from the exchanges they shared.

 

“Hermione,” Harry sighed one day at dinner. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

 

“Absolutely not,” the Gryffindor girl responded stubbornly, crossing her arms against her chest. Her gaze drifted to the walls around the Hall, taking in the decorations and Christmas lights that had just been strung up that afternoon. “If she wants to talk, she can talk to me first. There’s no way I’m going to see her first.” She couldn’t help being this way, she thought as she stabbed at a little piece of meat angrily, ignoring the stares and whispers about the fight she and Fleur Delacour supposedly had. She knew they were all wondering if that was the end of their friendship… and she also knew that the rumours got more elaborate and frankly quite ridiculous as it was passed on from person to person. Her pride wouldn’t let her be the first one to cave in and try to be friends with the girl who was responsible for all this rumour-mongering again. So she spent those seven days this way, with Harry and Ginny trying to coax her into talking to the pretty blonde, but with Hermione refusing every time.

 

But as everyone knows, there’s really only so long one can avoid another, and as fate (or whatever higher power you believe in, should you believe in one at all) would have it, one Saturday afternoon exactly two weeks after Hermione’s and Fleur’s falling out, the two girls met face-to-face again. It was unplanned, of course, as Hermione was still angry and hurt by what Fleur had said to her, and embarrassed at what she had said to Fleur in response. But as aforementioned, it wasn’t to be helped.

 

It was a beautiful day out, and Hermione was sitting in the Courtyard, watching Fleur darkly as she laughed with her Beauxbatons friends, clenching her jaw as it dawned on her that the Ball was no more than a week away. She herself had gotten a date; it seemed that Viktor Krum had taken an interest in Hermione, and perhaps because she was flattered, she agreed. He was good-looking, and he certainly hadn’t said anything that gave her a reason to be mad at him, unlike certain other people she wouldn’t name.

 

But although the Ball was just a week away and anyone with a sensible brain would have known that Fleur already had a date, it never did stop boys from trying. In fact, right this very moment Hermione spotted a familiar shock of red hair, determinedly striding towards Fleur and her friends, who just so happened to be slowly drifting in the Gryffindor girl’s direction. Hermione was about to call out to Ron, knowing nothing good could come of this (after all, she had already informed him of Fleur going with Roger Davies), but before she could the redhead had already yelled out loudly across the Courtyard, “Oy! Delacour!”

 

Fleur turned around to face the boy, hand placed neatly, dare one say _sexily_ , on her hip. She had been about to approach Hermione, hoping the girl wouldn’t rebuff her, only to be interrupted by this boy. Who seemed rather rude, yelling at her like that, or at least rude for someone who was good friends with Hermione, and the girl found herself wondering why Hermione kept this sort of company. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hermione burying her face in her hands, and a light smile reached her lips. “I’ll ‘ave you know that no, I will not go to ze Ball with you, especially not after ze way you have just spoken to me,” Fleur said coolly, getting rather tired of having to turn down numerous boys in one day, and instantly turned around, catching Hermione’s eye briefly but not really knowing what to say if she did speak to her, and then marching off towards who knew where, her friends following behind her.

 

 

Hermione had spent most of the rest of the day trying to comfort Ron, who was mortified at what he’d done and was inconsolable. When he finally spoke, all he managed to say was, “Why’s she going with Davies? He’s not that good-looking.” And Hermione was asking herself the same thing, though outwardly she just nodded and went along with her friend, trying to comfort him as best she could. When Ron seemed fine and Hermione thought he wouldn’t run off to try and do himself in, she decided to leave him – though she was relieved to find Harry nearby and told him to look after their friend.

 

She, on the other hand (and with Harry’s full support), headed off to the library, which she hadn’t frequented ever since what she referred to as “The Fight” with Fleur. She had a feeling that the girl might be there this evening, and when she arrived she was disappointed by the lack of the girl’s presence. She picked out a random book and sat down with it, reading but not really reading, not sure exactly what the feelings she was experiencing were. Because how could anybody be sad, angry, frustrated, and all around just upset… but mainly with herself… at the same time? It seemed impossible.

 

But what seemed even more impossible was that at that very minute, a hand, cool and tingling to the touch, gently tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise, but somehow she had a feeling that this was the person she was expecting. And now, in addition to those angry feelings, she also felt happiness, and… well, she would never have admitted it, but fluttery.

 

“Fleur?” she whispered.

 

“ _Oui_ ,” came the also-whispered affirmation, the French witch’s breath tickling the Gryffindor’s ear and causing Hermione to chuckle nervously, wary of the tingling sensation than coursed through her. Fleur removed her hand from the brunette’s shoulder and took a seat next to Hermione, watching her carefully before studying the (rather rude) etchings on table.

 

A silence passed between them, and no one made a move to say anything. Madam Pince, however, glanced over, wary that they might cause a ruckus again. Hermione had no intention of doing so, not wanting to give the student body more reason to whisper behind her back, and took to staring at her hands.

 

Finally, when she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, she started unsurely, “I’m really so-”

 

But Fleur waved a hand, cutting the girl off, “No. If anyone should apologize, it should be me.” She paused. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Listen,” Hermione began, small grin forming. “You don’t get to be the only one who does the apologizing.” This time Fleur held her tongue, and waited for Hermione to go on. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said all those things about you.” Her cheeks coloured, and she stared down at her lap again. “I guess I was just jealous.”

 

“Of what?” Fleur prodded gently, though she looked incredulous at the thought.

 

Hermione hesitated. “I don’t know,” she spoke at last, inwardly slapping herself for not being able to be more honest with the Beauxbatons witch. “I guess… Just of all those guys who asked you out.” There. She had said it, and Fleur could take it any way she wanted to. She bit her lip and cast her gaze downwards for the umpteenth time that evening, and after a few moments she felt a gentle hand brush her chin, lifting it to meet those cerulean blues she was so afraid of looking into. The two of them stayed this way for a few moments, before Fleur flashed the girl a sad smile.

 

“They only like me because of my Veela blood,” Fleur said seriously, but didn’t want to weigh her friend down by telling her how much she hated looking up into glazed-over eyes, knowing that they didn’t hear a single word she’d said. “It’s nothing to be envious about.” She said this kindly, forcing a small smile to show Hermione she did not mean anything bossy by it. Then tentatively she added, glancing at Hermione so she could see how the girl reacted, “I’m glad we’re on speaking terms again.”

 

Hermione smiled brightly, “Oh, me too.”

 

Because having Fleur was better than not having Fleur, even if it meant just her friendship and nothing else.

 

 

The Yule Ball was finally upon them; Hermione would’ve been able to tell weeks before merely by the excited tones in which people spoke. Girls got more and more gigglish as the days passed and she thought she would collapse if she had to spend another day with both Lavender and Parvati, who would squeal about the Ball till the early hours of the morning, at which point Hermione would have to tell them to shush. And as she stepped down the main stairway, her gaze falling upon Parvati and Harry, she knew better than to expect the two Gryffindor girls to stop their hushed whisperings at night; once the Ball was over, they would just find new and better things to gossip about – all about things that happened at the ball, of course. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t notice Viktor walking towards her until he was right in front of her, offering his arm. She took his arm, and as they passed Harry and Parvati, she greeted them excitedly and a bit nervously, but when she passed Fleur and Roger Davies, a deep scowl formed on her face, though she tried to fix this quickly by forcing a smile instead, though it just made her look queasy.

 

Noticing this, Viktor turned to her, concerned, “Are yoo all vight, Hermy-own?”

 

Hermione nodded, smiling at him now, and paused to admire the decorations. She could see the gorgeous interior of the Great Hall, and it was covered in white; ice statues stood, unmelting, in the center of some tables, and a drinks and snacks table was on one side – Hermione could see it clearly from where she was. As Professor McGonagall called for the Champions and their dates, Hermione turned away from the entrance to the Great Hall, and headed towards the Deputy Headmistress, her arm still in Viktor’s.

 

Fleur, _her_ arm in Roger’s, walked in the general direction of Professor McGonagall, slightly put off by the fact that Hermione had just breezed by her without so much greeting as a hello, and slightly hurt by the fact that Hermione hadn’t bothered to tell her about her date. Although that could be seen as partially being her own fault for not having asked, she hadn’t wanted to upset the girl by bringing up Yule Ball questions on the day they just made up.

 

It was funny, really, because Hermione seemed so oblivious to the fact that people were staring at her. Fleur, too, had been surprised – Hermione looked stunning in her dress robes, and she had done something to her hair… The French witch looked away quickly as Hermione turned in her direction, looking up and Roger instead and trying to look as though she had been talking to him all the while, though talking did not seem like it was going to be an option since she saw his eyes were already glazed-over – or at least, if she talked, she could be sure that he would be paying no attention.

 

As they were ushered into the Great Hall, Fleur found that the setup was slightly different – it seemed the Champions had a table of their own. Taking a seat right opposite Hermione and next to Roger, she glanced around at the decorations. It really wasn’t too bad. When the food appeared in front of them, everyone dug in. Fleur snuck glances towards Hermione when she was finished; it seemed the girl was having trouble teaching Viktor how to pronounce her name – he didn’t seem to be able to get past “Herm-own-ninny,” which despite the circumstances amused her. But to get her mind off things, she started critiquing the Hogwarts decorations, slapping her hand onto the table for effect. She watched as Roger merely nodded and agreed with her, slapping his own hand in imitation, and she let out a sigh.

 

The lights soon dimmed, and as the Champions around her started getting up, she got up too. It was time to dance, and Fleur placed one hand on his shoulder and held on to his other hand with her remaining hand. She felt his hand on her waist, and as soon as a sad tune started playing, they started dancing. One-two-three, one-two-three… It really was better than she’d expected it to be, and considering she’d been expecting this to be horrible, well, this was very, very good. That was, until she felt the boy’s hand trail downward slowly… and she pulled away from him, affronted. At this point other students as well as professors had joined them on the dance floor, and so no one’s attention was directed to the two of them, save for perhaps a few students close enough to see what was going on.

 

“What? You don’t want to dance anymore?”

 

“No,” Fleur replied coldly and promptly sat down at the nearest chair. She was relieved to see Roger walk off, thinking he had grown frustrated (or something) and had gone to find someone else to harass. But unfortunately he was back soon, bringing drinks. She tried to remain civil as she took the drink from him but didn’t drink any of it, placing it down on the table instead and watching Hermione dance with Viktor, a sigh escaping her lips.

 

 

Hermione did her best to ignore Fleur, ignore her as politely as possible. When Fleur had asked her to pass some of the mashed potatoes over, she had done so politely, even smiling slightly at the girl and trying to make conversation with her date, Roger Davies. Though after the first few seconds she began to see her attempts as hopeless and pointless, for the boy seemed only to have eyes for Fleur. Something twisted in her gut as she saw him look at Fleur, goggle-eyed. For all his subtlety (or lack thereof), he might as well have been drooling.

 

She tried to keep an eye out for Fleur, though, but that was increasingly difficult on the dance floor, especially when the entire school joined in. Somehow through the crowd she managed to catch the French witch sitting down, chatting to Roger Davies. Her eyes followed the pair as they both got up and left, although she couldn’t see where to, and suddenly she didn’t feel like dancing with Viktor anymore. She pushed away from him, muttering something about drinks, and being the gentleman that he was, Viktor offered to get something for her, and he hurried off to the refreshments table.

 

When he returned, they took their time, leisurely heading towards the balcony and sipping their drinks while talking. “So how did you know you wanted to play Quidditch for the rest of your life?” Hermione asked curiously, though when Viktor made to reply, she wasn’t listening anymore. She was gaping at the scene in front of her, not knowing what to think. Viktor, noticing this, turned to see what she was looking at.

 

“Fleur?”

 

The girl with the platinum-blonde hair turned from the hunched-over form that was Roger Davies, twirling her wand in her hand, glancing first at Hermione and then at her date Viktor, and then back at Hermione again. “Hermione,” she greeted evenly, staring daggers at Viktor, and then brushing herself off, watched, amused, as Roger suddenly dashed off into the hall, his face a sickly green, before turning her attention back to Hermione.

 

“Is something vong?”

 

Fleur turned to Viktor as he addressed her, thinking it was kind of him to ask. “No. Mr. Davies just decided to get a little… how do you say… cheeky with me.”

 

“Oh?” Hermione intoned, her voice sharp and challenging now.

 

Fleur regarded her with amusement, twirling her wand again before stowing it back in her wand sleeve, then shrugged. “So I ‘exed him. He’ll be lucky if he stops vomiting in an hour.”

 

Viktor chuckled at this, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile, relief washing over her in bucketfuls. And much like the day she had gone to visit Fleur after the First Task, she stayed with the French girl and chatted with he, not minding Viktor’s presence too much, although she had a feeling Fleur was giving the poor boy a bit of the cold shoulder – it seemed Fleur could do without him. She didn’t press it, though, instead enjoying every moment she had with the French witch.

 

Because like she’d realized in the library, having Fleur around was better than not, even if it meant she could never have her all to herself.

 

 


	3. Boxing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Three**

**Chapter Three**

Hermione groaned as she sank down onto the bench next to Ron, who as usual was piling a large amount of food onto his plate. Tiredly she ran a hand through her hair; almost everyone had gotten up late on this Boxing Day, she included. And though it was now nearly noon, students were just starting to shuffle into the Great Hall, some of them still in their bedclothes. The house elves had seemed to take in consideration the fact that everyone might be up late, and thus there were breakfast foods as well as lunch foods on each table. It really was quite nice.

"Morning, Ron."

"Mrrrn."

"You might try swallowing before speaking. Honestly, Ronald!" Hermione frowned in disapproval. When Ron only offered her a half-shrug in response, she let out a sigh, helping herself to a few slices of hardboiled eggs and pancakes, pouring herself very generous amounts of syrup. Before she started cutting into her pancakes, however, she looked to Ron again and asked, "Where's Harry?"

Ron swallowed this time, taking a gulp of juice to help the food down, and then with another slight shrug, replied, "I dunno. He wasn't in bed when I woke up. I reckon… he's gone off to the library or something." And as though to make sure that Harry wasn't in the room, he looked around again, but shook his head when he didn't see their messy-haired friend.

And that was that. They didn't speak as they continued with eating – they were just exhausted from the night before, perhaps, and didn't feel much like talking. Well, at least, that was why Hermione wasn't talking just yet. As she swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, she allowed her gaze to drift over towards the Ravenclaw table, only to be disappointed when she didn't see that familiar silvery-blonde she was hoping to see. As she started to cut into the pancakes again, a light voice reached her ears, calling out to her in greeting, and not long after Hermione felt someone sit down beside her.

"Morning, Fleur," Hermione said without looking over, a smile forming on her face, surprised but nonetheless glad that the girl had decided to sit by her today. Though she had a feeling that might've had something to do with the fact that there was hardly anyone at the Ravenclaw table… And she found that slightly disheartening; so Fleur didn't really want to sit by her – she had pretty much been forced to. She looked over at the girl then.

"Good morning, Hermione," Fleur wore a smile that matched Hermione's, and she stifled a yawn as she looked around the table. It didn't take long for her to start heaping different foods onto her plate, and Hermione could only gape as she saw what was on the girl's plate. Noting the Gryffindor's shocked look, Fleur quirked a brow, smile still on her lips, "What?"

"Well, I just never figured you ate that much," Hermione replied honestly, allowing her eyes to trail over the French witch's form before looking away embarrassedly… She hoped Fleur hadn't seen her do that; it seemed a very boyish thing to do, and Hermione knew Fleur hated it when guys stared at her with that vacant expression on their faces… "You don't look like you eat that much."

Fleur looked offended at the possibility of rejecting food. "I love food," she grinned, laughing as Ron nodded enthusiastically in support, then took her time to look Hermione over, eyes sparkling. She had seen Hermione look at her, and while she felt disgusted whenever anyone else set eyes upon her in that way, she didn't mind so much when the Gryffindor girl did it… Her eyes were softer, kinder, more alert. They weren't glazed over. Fleur had seen something in the other girl's eyes, and while she couldn't place exactly what it was, it sent chills running up and down her spine, and she liked it.

"Ron," Hermione's sharp voice brought both Ron and Fleur back down to earth, and Ron turned to stare at Hermione quizzically. "Stop _drooling_ ; it's not very flattering." The Gryffindor fourth year looked rather unhappy with the boy, and Fleur tried in vain to hide a soft chuckle behind her hand. When Hermione turned to glare at her, she coughed lightly and turned to her food, eating in silence.

"Okay," Hermione began ten minutes later as Fleur finished the last bits of her brunch. "Ron?" The dazed boy turned his gaze from the French witch to Hermione, who was now frowning at him. "I'll see you and Harry in the common room later." That was, of course, assuming that Harry showed up. She still had no idea where he'd gone. Without waiting for a response from Ron, she got up and excused herself. Right before she walked away, she turned back to Fleur, "Want to come?"

* * *

Just minutes later the two girls found themselves strolling by the lake, the fresh breeze blowing past them and causing their hair and robes to billow in the wind. They walked in relative silence, ignoring the cheery laughter coming from nearby, content to be in their own little bubble. After a few more moments, Fleur slowly, carefully allowed her hand to brush against Hermione's. The French girl felt the tingles start at her fingertips and run up and down her arm, and when Hermione didn't jerk away, she closed her fingers gently around Hermione's.

They strolled along like that, their fingers gradually entwining. Hermione looked at Fleur shyly then, and was surprised when she saw a hint of a blush forming on the other girl's cheeks; she'd never thought Fleur to be shy. Nothing was said and only when they sat down on a bench under one of the trees did Fleur clear her throat, glancing up once at Hermione before staring out at the lake.

"You were beautiful last night."

Hermione flushed and stammered, "Th- thank you." Her gaze darted from Fleur to the ground and then back up to Fleur again. "So were you." She flushed again and looked back down at her lap.

Fleur smiled, and though she tried to maintain her cool, calm exterior, she couldn't help but feel a warmth rise gradually in her, and before she knew it, she too was blushing. She unlinked her hand from Hermione's, ignoring the lack of warmth that now presided there. She thought she might've seen a tentacle poke out of the water briefly, the Giant Squid saying hello, before going back under again. She must have been thinking for quite a while when she felt Hermione's fingers seek hers out, and she turned to look at the girl. "Yes?"

"Oh," Hermione looked embarrassed. "I- um…" She didn't know how to explain her actions. She didn't know exactly what was going on between Fleur and herself, but whatever it was, it was very nice and she didn't want it to stop anytime soon. She liked the feeling that raced through her when their fingers touched, when their hands were clasped together. It unnerved her, but in a good way… And she wanted more. She thought for a minute, wondering how to put it in words. "I just, er… wanted to hold your hand." She turned pink at this confession and suddenly garnered a huge interest in the grass.

Fleur didn't say or do anything for a while, and Hermione wondered if the girl had even been listening to her at all. But then the French witch soon slipped her hand into Hermione's and squeezed it gently, causing the Gryffindor to look at her and smile again. And then before Hermione knew it, she felt Fleur lean in closer to her, resting her head on Hermione's shoulder. The brunette was suddenly aware of the vague, fresh scent of lilacs and lavender, and wondered how she had never noticed the smell before. She knew it was Fleur, but for all the times she'd spent with the girl, never once had she smelled this smell. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that they had never touched each other before this; there had only been chaste taps on the shoulder or lingering brushes of arm against arm, leg against leg… But they had never held hands, and certainly neither of them had used the other as a pillow support. Not that Hermione minded being Fleur's pillow; she was quite enjoying it, actually.

"Oh," Fleur started, sitting up straight suddenly and looking at Hermione. "I almost forgot." She smiled slightly at Hermione's quizzical look and reaching up her sleeve, quickly produced her wand, which caused the Gryffindor girl to raise an eyebrow warily. The French witch laughed at the girl's expression and shook her head, a glint of humour in her eyes. "Zere is no need to worry, non? I will not 'ex you." Not like that Davies boy who had tried to do more than just kiss her last night. And with that, she called out firmly, " _Accio present!"_

The object that arrived in Fleur's hands not a few minutes later was wrapped rather nicely in red wrapping paper with gold sparkles on it – much like Hermione's house colours, although Fleur didn't realize that until after she'd finished wrapping it, at which point she just decided it was all the better that it worked out that way. "Here," the blonde said, proffering the item towards the other girl. "I know it's late… but Merry Christmas."

Hermione took the gift from the girl hesitantly. "You really shouldn't have… I didn't… I didn't get you anything," she said, looking ashamed at this admission. Truth was, Hermione hadn't thought she and Fleur would've made up, and by the time they did, Hogsmeade weekend had passed already, and the Yule Ball was just in a few days.

"Don't be silly. You British are too polite," Fleur smiled to show she hadn't meant it offensively. When Hermione still hesitated, Fleur rolled her eyes and urged, "Open it."

Hermione did as was requested, and gasped in surprise and glee when her eyes fell on the title of the book. _Magical Creatures of Asia and Europe._ It was a rather rare book, and Hermione had spent a good amount of her time with Fleur talking about the book. "Fleur!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the girl and pulling her into a tight hug. "This is brilliant!" She pulled back from the hug, and grinned, "Oh, thank you!"

Fleur looked very pleased at the other girl's joy, and could only smile as she replied, "Well. I'm very glad you like it." It hadn't exactly been easy to find the book; Fleur'd spent a lot of time in various bookstores in Hogsmeade, and when that proved to be unfruitful, she turned instead to the Daily Prophet to find the book. She managed to find it in an advertisement in the Prophet after days of looking, and a week after she had paid for it, an owl dropped the book off.

But now Hermione felt badly for having absolutely nothing for Fleur, who had given her possibly one of the best gifts she had ever received – and not look for anything in return. She reached down to hold Fleur's hand again, and when the girl looked up at her, she paused for a minute, contemplating, then decided just to get it over with and blurted, "What are you doing this weekend?"

* * *

Fleur left the lake about an hour later, feeling distinctly happier. She could hardly believe that Hermione had just asked her out on a date – at least, she'd taken the invitation to Hogsmeade later that week to mean just that. Because what else was she supposed to take that as? The Gryffindor had blushed such a deep red that the colour only faded minutes later, and when Fleur had readily agreed, Hermione had looked much too relieved for the invitation to be taken as a regular day out between two regular friends. Smiling at the thought of what awaited her later that week, she strolled back to the Beauxbatons carriage.

Upon entering, she was greeted with a few smiles as well as a couple of scowls. She knew some of her fellow students at Beauxbatons, especially the girls, were envious of her getting the Championship. One would have thought that by this point, they'd have moved on and started supporting their champion instead of being bitter about the fact that they hadn't been chosen. But no. They did support Fleur, but grudgingly so, and in Fleur's opinion, at that rate, they might as well just not support her at all!

Bright blue eyes scanned the interior of the carriage and when they fell upon another blonde, a smile lit upon her face and she walked over, letting out a contented sigh as she sat herself down on the dragon-hide seat. The other blonde girl looked up at her arrival and smiled at Fleur, speaking in fluent French, " _What is the problem now?_ " Still smiling, the girl continued, " _You haven't been up to anything bad, have you? Madame Maxime will be very angry with you if you have, I hope you know._ "

Fleur rolled her eyes, replying in English, "I know, Adrienne, I know." She looked at the girl intently, trying to see if she could see what book the girl was holding in her hands. She knew it was homework-related; almost everyone had yet to finish their homework assignments, and Fleur and Adrienne were no different. Seventh year certainly wasn't easy, but all in all Fleur thought she was having a good time, made all the better by Hermione.

"Were you zeeing zat girl… What waz 'er name… 'ermione?" Adrienne asked curiously and in English this time, her accent more pronounced than Fleur's. She studied the half-Veela for a minute, placing her book down next to her as she eyed the girl with what could have been disapproval. "You 'ad better make zure zat no one 'ears about zis, Fleur." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "You know zat…" she paused, perhaps to think of how to continue, or perhaps thinking better of what she originally intended to say. "…you need to conzentrate on ze second task, yes, Fleur? Not get… what iz ze word… _distracted_?"

"I know," Fleur repeated with a sigh as she got up now, heading for her room. She had to hear the same thing from Madam Maxime, and now Adrienne was bothering her about it too. Was it too much to ask just for one of her friends to be supportive of her? Adrienne knew Fleur fancied Hermione, and she quite clearly knew that she had just seen Hermione… yet there wasn't a question about how it went, or why in the world Fleur looked so happy. Merlin, Adrienne hadn't even asked about her day!

"Fleur! _Where are you going?_ " Adrienne called after her friend in their native tongue, but Fleur just walked on, raising a hand in goodbye as she headed up the stairs and entered her room, shutting the door quickly after her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, staring around the room. None of her roommates were in at the time, and Fleur had a feeling they had either gone for a walk around the grounds, or were out in the main room studying like Adrienne. Reaching under her bed now, Fleur pulled out her charms textbook and got to work. School was going to start soon, after all, and she wanted to have her assignments completed in time. So why not start now?

The French witch flicked her wand like the textbook had described it, muttering the incantation under her breath as she tried to master the spell. Twice already she had performed the spell successfully, and she would try a few more times just to make sure that she really did know the spell, before she'd move on to attempting the spell wordlessly. A few minutes later, with a wave of her wand and a hard, concentrating look, she managed to tidy up the mess on her bed (quills and parchments were all scattered about). Very pleased with herself, she scattered the parchments and quills again and tried her hand at the spell again. It worked again, though not as well. But by the time four o'clock in the afternoon rolled around, she could safely say that she had pretty much mastered the spell.

So she turned her attention to other things.

* * *

"C'mon Hermione," Ron pleaded. "Just lemme take a look at your parchment." He paused. "How am I supposed to know about the 'Great Goblin Wars of 1509'? Oh. Maybe not 1509, but… all they do is fight and fight; they've had so many wars… so which one are we supposed to right about?"

Hermione refused to hear any of it, and scrunching her nose up, she turned the other direction and stared into the fire, trying her best to ignore her red-haired friend. She looked at Harry, who only glanced up from his essay to grin at Ron, before looking at his again and resuming his work. When Ron begged her again, the brunette frowned and pointed out, "Ron, you still have a week to work on this. It's not due tomorrow, you know."

Ron brightened at this. "So y'mean to say, if I don't finish this up, you'll let me have a look?"

"Only if you work on yours first for the next few days," Hermione relented slightly.

Ron's face fell; he hated writing essays, and this one was a particularly long one. If he didn't work on it over the next few days, he knew Hermione wouldn't let him see what she'd written… and if he worked hard on it, there simply was no point in seeing what Hermione had written down, because he would've done his own work. So either way, he couldn't not do it. Grudgingly he replied, "Fine."

Hermione watched as her two friends worked on their essays, bored out of her mind. She didn't have a good book to read, and usually she would have gone to the library, but just as she was about to do so, Ginny arrived, and before Harry or Ron could tell them to take their conversation elsewhere, Ginny had already started, "Are you lot going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Ron mumbled something in reply, Harry gave a noncommittal shrug, and Hermione – well, Hermione sort of nodded. Ginny seemed pleased enough with this response and continued, "Great. I'll be going with you then. That all right?" She looked expectantly at Hermione, who only looked away. Ginny found this strange and hesitated, "It _is_ all right for me to come along, right? I didn't mean to impose…"

"Oh, that's not it at all, Gin," Hermione replied, embarrassed and ashamed. "I _want_ you to come along, but… I've already agreed to meet someone there, and I haven't told them anything about you coming…"

Both Ron and Harry looked up at this, as did Ginny, though a smile was on her face. The boys merely looked shocked, to which Ginny waved them off, telling them to go back to their homework assignment. Meanwhile, she tried to get all she could out of the other Gryffindor girl, but only succeeded at getting her to admit that she was to meet someone they all knew there. A thoughtful look on her face, she guessed, "Hm. Let me see…" She counted off on her fingers, as though going through a list of people in her head. "…Are you seeing Viktor?"

"No," Hermione replied pointedly and closed her eyes, refusing to answer any further questions Ginny thought up of. With a mischievous grin, Ginny sidled up closer to the other girl, causing the brunette to open an eye and stare inquisitively at her and shift away ever so slightly, before closing her eyes again. The whisper that came next was hushed and so silent that Hermione had almost missed it. But the blush that spread across her cheeks was an answer enough for Ginny, who only smirked knowingly and then walked off, which made Harry and Ron glance at their friend curiously.

Hermione didn't say anything as she sat there in silence, allowing Ginny's words to pass through her and waiting for the tingles that were ever so common whenever that name was uttered in her presence to subside. _Fleur._ That was what Ginny had asked – was she seeing Fleur Delacour? And Ginny knew just by Hermione's reaction that yes, that was the girl Hermione was seeing this Saturday.

* * *

The days flew by quickly, and aside from Wednesday, everything else passed without much fanfare. Because on Wednesday afternoon, Hermione Granger had managed to land herself in detention. She hadn't intended on being caught; in fact the girl hadn't even thought that far. All she had been concentrating on was Roger Davies, and how dare he talk about Fleur in that way. He demeaned her, saying how the French girl hadn't allowed him even a kiss, much less _anything else_. It was hard not to be disgusted at this behaviour. Actually, Roger had provided some pretty useful information, such as how Fleur had at first turned him down, only to change her mind much later, but that was before he started badmouthing Fleur and before Hermione had had to hex him in front of Ginny and a few other nameless students to get him to shut up.

As luck would have it, however, Professor Snape was in the vicinity, and though his dislike for Hermione was nowhere as intense as his dislike for Harry, he seemed rather pleased at the fact that the girl had hexed someone right under his nose. Not that the Gryffindor had noticed the Potions professor's presence while hexing Roger… but the fact was, she had gotten a Friday night detention with Snape – by far the worst possible way to spend an evening, but what made it even worse was that Professor Snape decided that since Ginny had done nothing to stop this from 'little mishap' as he put it from happening, she too would get a detention. Hermione protested, but when the Potions master threatened her with another detention, she fell silent.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized as she and Ginny walked along, still reeling from the fact that she had gotten herself into a detention over _Fleur_ , who wasn't even there, and to top it off had managed to drag her best friend into it as well.

"I can think of better things to do," Ginny admitted, then voice laced with sarcasm, continued, "than spending an evening with our _lovely_ Potions professor." She looked around to check that Professor Snape hadn't heard her, and then continued, "But at least you won't have to do it alone."

Hermione managed a smile, glad that Ginny was so understanding.

"That was a marvelous Bat-Bogey hex, though, I must say," the redheaded girl complimented.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled, shaking herself out of it. "Though it's nowhere near as good as yours."

"Trust me. If you had brothers like mine, you would have perfected the Bat-Bogey hex as well," Ginny paused in her speech, walking along in silence. No words were exchanged between the two for the next few minutes, and then Ginny gently tried getting more information out of Hermione yet again. "So what was that about? He – Roger, I mean – said that Fleur only agreed to go with him just a couple of days before the Ball, didn't he?"

"Yeah…" Hermione trailed off, thinking.

"But didn't you tell us that Fleur and Roger were going together _weeks_ before the Ball?"

"I know – I did," Hermione sighed. "That was what Fleur told me."

"You know what that means don't you?" Ginny started.

But even though Hermione said nothing in reply, she knew. It meant that Fleur had, for some reason or another, lied to her about being Roger's date. Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from grinning as she walked on, knowing what Hermione refused to see for herself and also knowing that her smart friend would be none too pleased with her reaction, and kept her eyes staring directly ahead of her all the way back to the common room.

* * *

Fleur sank into the bathtub that Friday evening, taking the egg with her at Madam Maxime's suggestion, trying to think of the Tournament instead of her 'date' with a certain Gryffindor girl the very next day... She ran a finger across the center of its golden shell, briefly wondering if it was really waterproof. It didn't seem like such a pretty, shiny thing should be allowed to touch the water, for it seemed it would only damage it. But… maybe it had something to do with the atmosphere of the bath? Fleur knew it was silly, but she tried it anyway. Wincing in advance, she opened the egg, and as she had expected, a horrid screeching filled the air. She shut it quickly, though it wasn't quick enough because her roommates cursed at her in French, and shortly after she heard the room door slam loudly.

She let out a sigh; at least none of them would 'barge in' on her now; they tended to have the bad habit of coming in whenever she was taking a bath or a shower… even though she had taken care to put a locking charm on it, somehow the Beauxbatons boys and sometimes girls would find their way in. It was no accident, and that made Fleur furious. She knew one of them in particular had taken a fancy to her, but that didn't give her the excuse to walk right in on her – and as for the other girls, Merlin knew why they were just barging in on her! Boys, she could understand – even if she didn't like it – but girls who held no interest in her whatsoever…? It was ridiculous. Even Adrienne, properly stationed at the door, couldn't keep the occasional intruder from entering. It really was quite frustrating, and thus she was glad to be alone.

Holding the egg with both hands now, she lowered it into the water and opened it, prepared to shut it quickly just in case. But nothing much happened. There was no deafening shriek, and she relaxed slightly, watching the bubbles rise to the surface. She thought for a minute, lathering the shampoo into her hair… When she was done she breathed in and then disappeared under the water to wash her hair, and when she did she was surprised to hear gentle voices singing to her.

 _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

 _We cannot sing above the ground,_

 _And while you're searching, ponder this:_

 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

 _An hour long you'll have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took,_

 _But past an hour – the prospect's black,_

 _Too late, it's gone, we won't come back._

She surfaced at the end, pondering this. She understood the last part of the song – about taking something she would miss… but what was there that she could possibly miss? None of her possessions, certainly. She took in a deep breath and went back under the water again, trying to catch the first few verses, and when she did she resurfaced. She brushed back a wet strand of hair that had plastered to the side of her face and shut the egg.

Come seek us where our voices sound…

" _Une sirèn!_ "

And with that realization, she stayed in the water for a little while longer, finishing up with her bath while pondering what exactly she could do now that she had somewhat of an idea as to what the Second Task was. She dried herself off with a large, fluffy blue towel and then wrapped it tightly around herself as she walked into her room. She absently walked to her drawer and pulled out some fresh clothes: a silky blue top, darker blue than the usual uniform, as well as a pair of black slacks. She slipped into these items and sat on her bed, thinking. Only to be interrupted by a knocking on the room door, which greatly annoyed her because firstly, she was trying not to think of Hermione and concentrate on the hint the egg had given her, and secondly, if it was one of her roommates then the girl needn't knock at all!

" _Fichez-moi la paix,"_ Fleur said to the door, hoping whoever it was that he or she would go away. "I need some time to think, non?" But when the door swung open anyway, Fleur was greeted by the sight of not a Beauxbatons student but a very familiar Hogwarts one, and a smile formed on her face. "Hermione!" she grinned, sitting up a bit straighter as she placed the egg by her bedside and got up to greet her friend. "I did not know you were coming."

"Oh," Hermione looked surprised. Was she supposed to tell anyone that she was coming? It was kind of hard, considering she'd just felt like dropping by. "I didn't know I was coming, either." After all, she had just completed detention with Snape and this was the last place she expected to be after that.

Fleur smiled at that, the tingles seizing her once again as she felt Hermione's gaze on her.

"I could leave, if this is a bad time."

"No, no," Fleur protested slightly, reaching out and gently touching the other girl's arm as though that would prevent her from walking away. And surprisingly, it did. Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to Fleur, her arm warm just from Fleur brushing against it. She quirked a brow at the French girl and waited. But nothing came. Fleur was watching Hermione; she looked as though she had just caught her breath, which made the French girl wonder what she had been up to this evening. Her cheeks were slightly redder than usual, and as she scrutinized the younger girl's face, Fleur's eyes slowly trailed down to Hermione's lips, which were parting as she began to speak. But before she could she was cut off by Fleur's voice, now soft.

"I could kiss you."

A sharp intake of breath, and Hermione took a step forward.

"Then why don't you?"

Fleur paused for a minute. Hermione's bold reply seemed to have surprised both the half-veela and the Muggle-born herself, and the two of them just stared at the other for a while, a million thoughts racing through each of their minds. And just as they thought that the moment was over, the joke was over, Fleur leaned in and captured Hermione's lips with her own.

The kiss was short but searing, including a brief journey made by Fleur's tongue into Hermione's mouth. When they pulled apart, the French witch took her time, nibbling at Hermione's lower lip before pulling back to look at the flushed brunette in front of her. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face, and Hermione coloured even more.

But not a minute later and the Gryffindor girl had her lips pressed against Fleur's and slipped her arms around the other's waist, pulling her deeper into the kiss. One thing was for sure: This was much better than hand-holding.


	4. The Scoop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter 4**

**Chapter 4**

The next day dawned quickly – much sooner than Fleur had expected, anyway, for it seemed like she had just gone to bed; as soon as her head had hit her pillow the sun had risen, and the birds started chirping. Truth was, she would not have awoken this early if not for the loud guffawing noise outside her room… But even then, she lay in her bed for a good few more minutes, her mind drifting to memories of the evening before, a content smile coming to settle on her face. A light giggle drew her attention to the door, causing her to force away all thoughts of kissing Hermione, and she sent an annoyed glare to the two intruders who had decided to poke their heads in. The two little boys froze in shock at being caught, and when they regained their senses they quickly shut the door.

Fleur had a feeling that they were still standing out there, probably waiting for one of the older girls in her dorm to walk out so they could scare them. _Younger kids,_ Fleur thought to herself with a small sigh. _They never think of anything better to do._ But of course, she herself was no different when she was younger – and she knew that. She settled back into her bed, pulling her comforter closer and snuggling deeper into her bed, closing her eyes and allowing her mind to wander, trying to fall asleep.

But all of a sudden, she sat up. How could she possibly have forgotten? The date with Hermione! Her heart leapt. She sprang from her bed and bustled around the room as quietly as she could manage, picking up a scarf on the floor and taking a fresh pair of blue robes from her drawers. But try as she might not to disturb any of her roommates, a few of them looked up at her, bleary with sleep, sending her a reproachful (or sometimes even deathlike) glare - which in turn caused her to wonder how in the world they hadn't heard those two younger boys earlier.

" _Fleur, that's my scarf!"_

Fleur jumped at the hissed whisper, startled. She knew it was Adrienne; she would recognize her friend's voice anywhere, and right now the displeasure the other girl felt showed in her sharp French tones. Turning to face the girl, Fleur sent Adrienne a light smile that was accompanied by a half-shrug, before making her way to the bathroom to get ready. She knew Adrienne would forgive her for taking the scarf – besides, Fleur had always been more than happy to lend Adrienne her clothes. This was what best friends were for, were they not? The platinum blonde witch grinned when she heard Adrienne's loud sigh behind her, and shut the door to the bathroom just as Adrienne fell back onto her bed.

Adrienne never seemed happy anymore; ever since they had arrived at Hogwarts, the girl's mood went downhill, and most times Fleur managed to cheer her up when others could not – but as of late her presence only seemed to irritate Adrienne. She had to admit it was rather hard to cheer Adrienne up when all she would do was glare angrily at her. Nevertheless, Fleur made a mental note to spend more time with her friend, and once she got back from this date with Hermione, they would have plenty to talk about. The thought cheered her up, and she hurried herself as she got dressed, exiting the room as soon as she was ready, not giving a second thought to the oddly choked cough that came from Adrienne's bed.

Oh, it was going to be a lovely day, and nothing – not even her best friend's foul mood – was going to ruin it.

* * *

The Great Hall was bustling with activity when Fleur made her entrance. After a quick searching glance around, she made her way over to the Ravenclaw table, sitting herself down next to no other than Cho Chang, aware of the eyes on her. Smiling once in greeting to Cho, she looked around again, trying again to find Hermione but to no avail. Her eyes settled back on Cho's form, and her smile reappeared.

" _Bonjour,_ Cho."

"Morning, Fleur," Cho replied with a smile in greeting, shifting over slightly so that there was more room for the French witch; the boy sitting on Fleur's other side did seem rather star-struck - so much so that he couldn't seem to make himself move. Fleur thanked the girl and started to reach for some of the food in front of her.

"'ow are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks," Cho took a gulp of her juice. "Yourself?" She paused only briefly for Fleur to nod (the girl was just starting on her eggs and hadn't wanted to speak with a full mouth), before she quickly continued, "I'm going to Hogsmeade – with Cedric." She set her goblet down then and waited expectantly for a reply from Fleur, who only seemed dumbfounded.

Was Fleur supposed to be surprised? The French witch raised a brow. Cho and Cedric had been dating for a while now, had they not? It was only natural that they went to Hogsmeade together, so why did Cho seem so delightfully happy and surprised? She understood why the witch would be happy, but surprise was unexpected. A short pause ensued, before Fleur managed, "Zat's good."

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it," Cho nodded as she set her goblet down. "Especially since it's a double-date." She grinned as Fleur looked up, interested. "I know – I've never been on a double-date. It should be quite exciting." Cho let out a short laugh, "I hope it's fun."

"It depends on ze company," Fleur replied. She had been on a few double-dates in her lifetime, and not all of them went well. She found that she preferred to go on a double-date with someone else she knew well, not the friend of her date. It seemed more awkward then. But honestly, she preferred not going on double-dates at all. She raised the fork to her mouth, pausing right before she took a bite of the eggs. "Who are you and Cedric going with?" Then she took a bite, waiting.

"Viktor Krum and Hermione Granger."

Fleur effectively choked on her food.

Cho cast the girl a concerned glance, and pointed her wand towards the French teen, lowering it only when the coughs subsided. "You all right?" the witch asked in concern, wand at the ready in case there was still need for it.

"Th- thank you," Fleur rasped, coughing slightly but waving Cho off as the girl raised her wand again. "I will- I- I will be fine." She smiled to show her appreciation, taking in a few breaths as Cho started again, speaking of the double date from hell and what it would entail. But the French witch couldn't find it in her to listen; sadness, disappointment, and anger welled up in her. She should've known better than to keep her hopes up. When Cho looked at her, as though expecting a response, she gave a half-hearted, "Oh. Z-zat's wonderful, of course." She smiled a fake smile, hoping she at least sounded or looked convincing.

And as Cho continued, Fleur tried to hold back the sick feeling that started in her gut… She thought she finally would be able to _be_ with Hermione – but that must've been why the girl had come along in the first place. Not because she "didn't know," as she had so aptly put it the night before, but because she'd wanted to cancel the weekend date. But Hermione had kissed her back, hadn't she? And they had shared a few more kisses before Hermione had had to leave, hadn't they? Certainly that had to count for _something_ … Fleur stabbed angrily at her eggs. She had thought that everything was wonderful; certainly _she_ had been in bliss. But obviously not Miss Hermione Granger.

"…bit excited really. Oh, look, there's Viktor."

 _His_ name brought her back down to earth, and she bristled visibly as Krum took a seat opposite them, looking quite glum indeed. Inwardly she flared up; what right had he to be upset when he had a date with Hermione? Fleur had been thrown to one side, cast away like an old doll, whereas he got her. Snatched her right out of Fleur's grasp. It hurt so much that she wanted to throttle the boy. World-class Quidditch player her _derrière_! He'd be a _dead_ world-class Quidditch player if Fleur didn't know any better.

He lobbed a solemn gaze towards the excited-looking Cho, his face betraying no emotion, and when his mouth opened, all he said was, "Herm-own-ninny cannot come."

Fleur looked up at this. At least Hermione wasn't going with either of them. Or did it mean that Hermione was actually going with her? Her heart leapt at the possibility – that would mean she wasn't dumped for someone else, or for homework…

"Cannot?" Cho repeated. "Did she say _why_?"

"Vell, I asked her last week but she said she is already meeting someone else."

An overwhelming feeling of relief and happiness washed over the platinum-blonde witch, and she had to try her hardest to suppress a happy grin. So Hermione was still going to Hogsmeade with her; the brunette hadn't completely disregarded the date in Hogsmeade. Fleur had to look down so that no one would catch what was now the beginnings of a smile that played on her lips, and she quickly stuffed her mouth with more eggs, listening to the conversation at hand with much more enthusiasm than before.

"Oh…" Cho trailed off, her eyes serious as she thought. But as she could find nothing better to say – nothing that would comfort the Quidditch player, should he need any sort of support (she couldn't tell, as he was hard to read) – she sent Viktor a small, sympathetic smile and added, "Maybe another time, then. But you're still welcome to join Cedric and me in Hogsmeade, of course."

Viktor nodded politely at this and got up, saying a quick goodbye to both Cho and Fleur before heading for the Slytherin table, where his friends were seated. A few Slytherin students moved over so he could sit, some of them staring at him openly, as though surprised he would ever sit next to them. For an instant Fleur felt almost sorry for him; she knew what it was like to be stared at – more so than Viktor did… to some extent. And more than that, to be turned down. She was glad she had the date with Hermione, but…

"That's odd," Cho started again as soon as Viktor had sat down at the table, pulling Fleur's attention to her. "I thought Krum and Hermione were definitely steady. You know…" the witch thought for a moment. "…You're really close to Hermione, aren't you?" Fleur nodded. "You don't suppose you know who she's meeting down at Hogsmeade?"

Fleur swallowed her food, but then wasn't sure what she should say. She liked Hermione, she really did, and even though they'd kissed the night before, that wasn't to say they were dating – because they weren't, and to say so would just cause problems in the end. But they were going there together… She took a sip of her juice and tried to think of something to say. Thankfully, she was saved from having to make anything up as right then, a gentle hand was placed on her shoulder.

" _Bonjour_ , Cho," the newcomer said, making the boy who was originally sitting next to Fleur move as she settled into the seat next to Fleur. " _Bonjour, Fleur_."

"Morning Adrienne," Cho greeted in response.

Fleur tilted her head to one side, " _Bonjour, Adrienne._ "

Silence fell upon the three girls as Adrienne started choosing some breakfast items and placing them delicately on her plate. It didn't take long for Cho to start talking again, her voice curious, "Do you know who Hermione Granger is?" Adrienne's eyes seemed to narrow for the briefest moment, and a frown came to rest on her face as she nodded somewhat reluctantly. Cho, content with this answer, continued, "Well, you haven't happened to hear anything about who she's going with to Hogsmeade?"

Adrienne glanced sharply at Fleur, who just let out a sigh. Would Cho never give this up?

* * *

"Wait. So did Adrienne tell Cho we were going together?"

"Is it bad if she did?" Fleur challenged.

Hermione faltered.

"If you're not ready for this-" Fleur began slowly, trying not to let any emotion show through. She liked Hermione – she liked her a lot. Which was exactly why she didn't want to let the both of them get into something that firstly, Hermione wasn't sure of, and secondly, what Fleur herself could get hurt by in the end. She didn't think there was any way she could stand it if Hermione left her. "-I can wait."

Hermione reached down for Fleur's hand and smiled, which caused the French girl to look down, saddened. She knew this meant that Hermione had decided to take some time to think about things – maybe what had transpired between them, and if it was something she wanted. But when Hermione spoke, it wasn't at all what Fleur thought it would be. What came out of the girl's mouth was, instead, "We're in Hogsmeade together right now, aren't we?"

It seemed they were indeed, and Fleur nodded. She wondered how she could have walked from the castle to the little village without really paying attention to where she was going on the way. Quite miraculous, really. But she turned her attention back on Hermione as the girl spoke.

"People will see us together anyway," Hermione continued, pressing her point and trying to get Fleur to see what she was saying. Students would either see her and Fleur as extremely close friends, or perhaps more – everyone knew of their close friendship, and some speculated that much more could be going on. None of that bothered Hermione, and she didn't see why Fleur thought it did. "I never said that was bad. I was just wondering if Adrienne told Cho anything about this date." A light smile lit her face, and rather affectionately she said, "Silly." Then she promptly planted a quick kiss on Fleur's cheek.

Fleur grinned at that, causing Hermione to smirk and a few others around them who noticed to stare.

"Well?" Hermione prodded, ignoring the glances she was receiving.

"No. Adrienne did not say anything," Fleur replied, her lips creasing into a small frown. Not noticing Hermione's somewhat concerned glance, she continued, "I- Adrienne-" She paused to collect her thoughts. "I am worried about Adrienne." Hermione didn't say anything, and Fleur took that to mean she could go on. But shrugging it off, she added, "I am sure it is nothing."

Hermione didn't push for any more information, instead giving Fleur's hand a small squeeze. She looked for somewhere they could go to, but before she could suggest anything, Fleur had pulled her towards Honeydukes. As they entered the crowded store, the brunette had to laugh at Fleur's expression; it was one of utmost delight. It was strangely calming to see the French witch so happy, and Hermione looked at the different assortment of sweets Honeydukes offered while Fleur hovered around the lollipops section.

"Hermione!"

The brunette spun around at the familiar voice to see Ginny.

"Ginny!" Hermione beamed. She had just seen the girl the evening before – first in detention, and then after she'd returned from the Beauxbatons carriage. They had spent a long while after that chatting about many things, one of them being Fleur. Well, what Hermione and Fleur had done, anyway. Hermione was glad for a friend like Ginny, and felt bad that she couldn't include the girl on this trip to Hogsmeade. "Found someone to go to Hogsmeade with, then?"

"Yeah," the redhead grinned, now teasing, "With no thanks to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and playfully hit the redhead's shoulder, chuckling. She scanned the store quickly, trying to see who Ginny might've come with. But there were too many possibilities; Ginny was becoming quite the attractive young girl – there were many boys she could see who might've accompanied her… But Ginny would've told her if she were _dating_ someone, right? "So, who is it?"

Ginny laughed, as though reading Hermione's mind. "It's not who you think." She cocked her head to the left slightly, gesturing to another blonde girl. "Luna didn't have anyone to come with, either."

Hermione nodded. She had never, ever heard of Luna – but she supposed it was one of Ginny's good friends from third year, or perhaps younger than that. Though Ginny had never mentioned her before this, Hermione didn't think it was a big deal that the girl had her own life outside Hermione, Ron, and Harry's "group." She knew Ron had a problem with it, but he was always the overprotective older brother…

"So," Ginny began, lowering her voice. A tiny twinkle was in her eye – a twinkle that made Hermione nervous. This couldn't possibly be good… She knew they were just arriving at the topic Ginny had meant to broach when she first greeted Hermione. "How's the date so far?"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, pushing her friend gently with a laugh. "Can't you wait till we're back in the common room?"

Ginny grinned.

Hermione rolled her eyes, pushing past her friend as Fleur waved to her with one arm, the other arm holding onto a bag crammed full of lollipops and licorice wands – and probably more that were stuffed under the mass of sweets. "I should go. But I'll talk to you later."

The redheaded witch watched with a smile as her friend and her date exit the shop, their hands intertwined, and then turned back to Luna, continuing her browsing for sweets. No one was aware of the pair of blue eyes that followed Fleur and Hermione as they walked out, a very displeased frown upon the watcher's face, before looking down at a few sugar quills and inspecting them closely.

* * *

School was upon them again the following Monday, and students trudged into the Great Hall, an expression of utmost weariness upon their faces. Many of them had stayed up the entire night, trying to finish – or in some cases, start – their holiday homework. It was a bit late to do so, and many of them had unsuccessfully tried to bribe their friends to complete the work for them, or help them with it.

But everyone got through the first week back from holidays (and the weeks that followed) as well as they could, catching up on the work they had not completed, some of them even serving detention hours for it. More and more work was piled upon the students as the weeks passed, and Fleur and Hermione were finding it increasingly difficult to spend any time together at all. Perhaps that was why as February rolled around and the Second Task was imminent, all hell broke loose.

Well. All hell in _their_ worlds, anyway.

It was a freezing cold Tuesday morning, a day so dreary and bleak that Hermione found even she wasn't looking forward to classes. She dragged herself out of bed, pulled on some clean robes and then walked down to the Great Hall. She was late – there were many students already down there, eating and chattering away. Heck, even Ron and Harry were sitting there, chatting to each other. As she walked over, she could feel many eyes on her back, of people sniggering and whispering behind her back. A few girls eyed her almost enviously, but she paid no notice.

She easily slipped into the seat next to Ron, who was talking to Harry. They paused in their conversation momentarily as Hermione joined them, giving her very cheery greetings which caused her to raise a brow. She helped herself to some cereal, and reached over for the Prophet…

…only to have Harry snatch it away quickly.

Affronted, she glared at him angrily. "Harry! I was going to read that!"

"Sorry," he looked almost relieved, but quickly changed his expression to one of concentration as he scanned the article. Hermione frowned, watching as her best friend folded the Prophet so that the front was now facing the inside, and what'd been on the inside was now facing on the front. Noting Hermione's expression, he added, "I just wanted to check something. Give me a minute."

Scowling now, Hermione turned to her breakfast. Ginny joined them soon enough, sitting down next to Harry, and Hermione felt annoyance rise in her as Ginny, Ron, and Harry exchanged nervous glances. She was just about to open her mouth and try to get them to tell her what in the world was wrong, when Ginny looked at her watch and exclaimed, "Oh, Merlin! It's time for class!"

Before anything else could be said, Ginny waved a goodbye to them and walked out of the large double doors. Ron and Harry stood quickly also, and Hermione followed along as they headed to their first class. Neither Ron nor Harry said a word as they walked, which was unusual, and Hermione wasn't sure if she should be more worried or annoyed. She knew they were keeping something from her, but what? And not to forget… she never had a chance to read the Prophet.

Something was wrong, and she was determined to find out what exactly that was.

* * *

Later that day, shortly after spending lunchtime admonishing Harry for throwing the Daily Prophet away and trying to get information out of Ginny, Harry, and Ron (but to no avail), Hermione walked along the cold stone corridors, trying to find someone else who would tell her _anything_ , or at least someone who had a copy of the Prophet. So far she hadn't found anyone who had the Prophet; just a few girls who sneered at her as she passed.

So when she bumped into Fleur, a smile lit her face and she reached out to hug her girlfriend. But the blonde-haired witch recoiled, her blue eyes livid as she glared at Hermione. Confused and now frustrated, the brunette took in a deep breath. First, her very best friends, and now Fleur too? She didn't understand what was going on, and no one would tell her.

"Fleur?" she began slowly, wondering what in the world she'd done.

"Explain _zis_!" the French witch spat, her voice echoing through the hallway as she threw a copy of the Prophet at Hermione which hit her squarely in the jaw. "We're – we're _zrough_."

The brunette didn't even feel the paper connect; she was so startled and confused. Why was Fleur breaking up with her? What had she done? The pain hit her hard… She didn't understand… She watched as Fleur left, her own eyes so full of tears that she didn't even notice that Fleur's were, too. Slowly she reached down to pick the Prophet from the floor. "What?" she started, but then stopped.

**Krum and Granger: Much More than Just Friends (but we already knew that)**

**By Rita Skeeter**

It wasn't the headline that was what Fleur had been so upset about; the girl had never been one to trust the Prophet much – she preferred the French newspaper. Hermione's heart dropped when she saw the picture that was under the headline; it unmistakably was what Fleur had been so upset about. It was a picture of Hermione - kissing Krum.

Fleur had got it all wrong; this was a horrible mistake. Guilt swelled up in Hermione; she knew she should never have approached the Quidditch player in the first place… But he had been so nice to her, so understanding. The kiss had only been her trying to show him her appreciation – it hadn't _meant_ anything. But of course, how was Fleur supposed to know that?

Choking back a sob, Hermione threw the paper down and ran in the direction Fleur had taken off in, hoping she would be able to convince the girl that it meant nothing: Because that was the truth. The kiss didn't mean anything.

* * *

Fleur slammed the door to her dorm room and climbed into her bed, roughly wiping at the tears that streaked her cheeks as she rocked herself backwards and forwards slowly, trying to stop the tears from falling. Hermione wasn't worth all this. Not after she had gone and kissed that Bulgarian oaf. Fleur couldn't believe she had allowed herself to fall hard for this girl, only to be hurt so badly. Romances never ended well for her; it hadn't for her previous relationships, and this one was no different. Maybe that was her payback: For all the hearts she toyed with and broke… her heart, too, would be broken. Again and again.

Such was the relentless cycle, and she saw no end to it.

So caught up in her thoughts and sadness was she that she didn't hear someone else enter the room, and was only aware of the other presence when she felt her bed sink slightly. She looked up, wiping her tears again, and saw blonde locks. Adrienne. That was someone she could count on, Gabrielle, and Adrienne; her friend was there for her always. Never once had Adrienne let her down. Her eyes again fell back to the bed, and the two girls sat there for a long time without saying a word to the other.

Then, Fleur felt gentle lips brush against her cheek. She looked up through teary eyes, and closed her eyes as Adrienne brushed the tears away. When she opened them again, she found her best friend no more than a hair's breadth away. Bright blue eyes met her own sad ones, and before Fleur could thank her, or do anything, she felt soft lips upon hers.

" _Fleur,_ " Adrienne whispered softly, her French voice sad, when she pulled back from the kiss. " _Mon amour. I have loved you forever…"_

Fleur said nothing; all she could think of was Hermione, and how she wished those were the words the brunette had uttered. Not Adrienne. Hermione. But that didn't matter now. Hermione didn't matter. They weren't dating anymore. Roughly Fleur grabbed her friend, pulling her into a kiss. It wasn't anything like kissing Hermione. Kissing Hermione was soft, sweet, gentle, exciting… exhilarating. Kissing Adrienne was a completely different experience. Not unpleasant, and similar in some ways, but it wasn't Hermione.

Nevertheless, before she knew it, Fleur found her arms under the girl's shirt, running a slow race up and down her best friend's back, eliciting a soft moan from the girl. When they pulled apart, she found that Adrienne was working at her robes, trying to unbutton them. When she finally managed to undo the last button, Fleur shrugged the blouse off, leaving herself topless. The French witch then leaned in again to kiss Adrienne, who returned the kiss with vigor. Fleur felt her best friend's arms encircling her naked torso, and she felt herself falling back onto her bed, with Adrienne on top of her, the both of them still deep in the kiss.

But still, despite all this, Hermione occupied her mind. It was unfair to do this to Adrienne. Unfair to Adrienne, and unfair to Fleur herself. As Fleur broke the kiss, she shook her head, " _Adrienne, I can't do this._ "

A frustrated sigh. " _Why not?"_

" _It's not… It's not right._ "

A long pause ensued, broken by a knock sounding on the door.

Fleur gasped, and pushed Adrienne off her. " _Dans un moment!"_ she choked out, flustered, as she pulled her shirt back on. Just as she buttoned the second to last button, the door swung open and Fleur's arms flew up to finish buttoning… A frown crossed her face when she saw who it was; the fresh feeling of hurt, and now guilt, stung her.

It was Hermione.

And the brunette could piece two and two together. She looked from a red-eyed but flustered Fleur, to a fairly frustrated Adrienne – both girls had tousled hair, and they looked like they had just… Well, Hermione knew what they had been about to do – or was it what they _had been doing_ before she came in?

"I came to explain," Hermione said stonily. How quick Fleur was to move from one girl, one lover, to another. And it hurt her to catch Fleur in the act, to know that Fleur didn't spare a minute crying for her. Why she had even bothered coming, she didn't know. Why she still cared, she didn't know either. "But I can see you're doing just fine without me." She turned to leave, the tears starting to well in her eyes again, when Fleur's voice held her back.

"Don't you dare," the French witch was now standing, and her voice trembled with her anger even as she tried to keep it steady. She pointed now to Hermione. "Don't you _dare._ You were ze one who went off with _him_!"

"That's not true! That picture – it's not what it looks like!"

"And I am to believe zat?" Fleur snapped. "What were you doing? Giving 'im mouth-to-mouth rezuzitation?"

Hermione flared, "And I'm supposed to believe that you fell onto your bed and your shirt flew open!" Hurt was evident in her voice as she glared back at Fleur. "I shouldn't have kissed Krum – it didn't mean anything," Hermione said coldly. "But you have no excuse for what you did, either."

And with that, she spun on her heel and left.


	5. The Second Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 5**

**Chapter 5**

Not once in all her seventeen years had Fleur Delacour experienced such pain – and this pain she was in was not caused by physical hurts, but by emotional ones. Sure, the French beauty had had many a young love, but when they had left, she couldn't remember it hurting this much. Most certainly she had gotten over them in less than a day, maybe two. It was easy for her, moving on, while the person she left, or who left her, pined for her for days afterwards. She had that effect on people, and no one had any sort of effect on her. She thought she was lucky, but now she knew that she just hadn't loved the other enough… She just hadn't been in love.

But it was very different with Hermione. Because Fleur just couldn't seem to stop crying; whenever she thought the tears were about to subside, that she'd have a moment of peace, tears would form at the corners of her eyes again, and slowly, slowly trickle down her pale cheeks. She also stopped eating, or at least ate much less than was healthy for her. She didn't notice her stomach growl when it did; her thoughts only resided on Hermione, the girl whom with she had managed to screw everything up.

She closed her eyes, her head resting on her hands as she lay on her side, nestled warmly under the covers of her bed. Her body was trembling as she forced herself not to cry, to get a grip on herself. It was all that stupid Bulgarian's fault… Krum… She felt sick at the mere thought of his name. He had to be in the way. No one had wanted him there; Fleur certainly wanted him gone. But what she didn't understand was why Hermione had to _kiss_ him in the first place. Perhaps it wasn't _all_ that stupid Bulgarian's fault.

But why? Why kiss him? Was she not good enough?

Fleur found the thought hard to bear, and tried breathing in deeply as her body was wracked with sobs once again. The picture in the Daily Prophet replayed in her head, over and over again. Hermione was constantly on her mind, appearing frequently in her daydreams and even dreams. Fleur wanted her, wished her back… She _needed_ her. The look upon the younger girl's face when she rushed into the room and saw Fleur and Adrienne, decently dressed yet with the tense air of two people who had just been walked in on… It hadn't taken Hermione long to figure out what was going on.

The French witch knew she had been wrong to do what she'd done with Adrienne; she knew it as Adrienne had kissed her firmly and passionately, and it was exactly because of that that she had drawn back and stopped the kisses. But the plain and simple fact was, she had gotten into it because of Hermione. She had been upset, and Adrienne had been there to comfort her. When her best friend kissed her, she could not refuse. She even welcomed it for the briefest of minutes. But then the world came crashing back around her, and she pushed Adrienne off of her.

Now Fleur wasn't talking to Adrienne. She wasn't talking to anyone save for a few girls in her dorm. She hadn't seen Hermione for the past few weeks except for a passing glance in the Great Hall, and when she met one of the other girl's friends in the hallways, they would only glare angrily at her. Fleur knew she fully deserved every amount of hatred Hermione could muster, every amount of despise the girl's friends could hold for her, and she looked away nearly every time, ashamed. But occasionally she would stare right back, her blue eyes icy, letting them know that she wasn't the only one to blame.

But the problem was, they knew that.

They knew Hermione was partially responsible.

But she hadn't been the one who had gone that far.

* * *

Hermione gazed listlessly into the fire, only half-aware as Ginny took a seat next to her and sat in silence, glancing towards the brunette occasionally, as though to see whether or not she was really all right – not that she was. Had Hermione been in a better state of mind, she would have appreciated Ginny's companionship, but as of this moment, she merely regarded it with a slight inclination of her head. The two were utterly silent for the next few minutes, and Hermione found it rather easy to tune out the loud chatter that younger years were making, due in part to the loud giggles and whispers Lavender and Parvati would make at night as they gossiped about the latest news.

The brunette knew that lately she had been the subject of Lavender and Parvati's gossips; whenever she entered the dorm, they always fell silent and were quick to busy themselves with other work. Sometimes they would abruptly change topics. Hermione leaned back into the plushy couch, deep in thought. She had cried until she didn't have any more tears left to cry; occasionally a dry sob, a choked noise, would escape her lips, but that was it. She wouldn't allow herself to cry any more. She was over Fleur Delacour. Plain and simple. Easy as pie. And that was that.

At least, that was what she told herself.

But when she spotted Fleur in the Great Hall at mealtimes or anywhere around the castle, her stomach got that fluttery feeling it always did whenever the French girl was around, and on the rare occasion that their eyes did meet, Hermione's heart never failed to skip a few beats. It seemed the girl still had that effect on her, and Hermione wished the feeling away. It just complicated matters, and things were complicated enough as they were.

All she knew was that she was supposed to be angry at Fleur. And she rightly was, but it was so hard to be mad at someone, especially when said someone caused a fluttery feeling to surface whenever said special someone was present. Hermione hated Fleur for it; how was she supposed to stay mad? But perhaps that wasn't it. That wasn't the only thing… While she might not have been as angry as before, it didn't mean that she wasn't angry.

She inhaled. She wasn't making sense, not to herself anyway.

Perhaps the best way to describe how she was feeling was betrayed. She expected Fleur to at least have waited… how long, she didn't know, but certainly more than a few bloody minutes. She had never thought that she meant this little to the foreign witch – most others had the _decency_ to wait a day or two, or much more. But Fleur was different. It didn't take her long at all to hop into bed with another girl, and what made it worse was that Hermione had a suspicion that Fleur and Adrienne had gone further than she and Fleur ever had.

All in the space of a few minutes.

She wondered if she had entered earlier, would she have seen… She breathed in sharply, refusing to think of it. It hurt too much. Why did it have to hurt like this? The brunette had tried going through stacks and stacks of potions books, trying to find a cure for this horrid feeling, but could find none. The ones she did find were far too complicated, and she was certain that while Professor Snape might have them in his cupboard, there was no way she could nick any. That, and most of the potions had to brew for a long, long time. She didn't want to wait. She wanted something to be done immediately – instant gratification, of sorts.

She thought she might know why Fleur had done it.

No, she did know why Fleur had done it.

But it was still inexcusable… Going so far as to make love – no, _shag_ – the other girl. Hermione would never have done that with Krum. She'd never had the intention of doing anything with Krum. The picture in the Prophet showed what happened, yes, but not the context in which it had happened.

Hermione remembered that night clearly. She had gone to the library to talk to Krum – who had graciously agreed to meet her there. She hated having to see him ask her to Hogsmeade every time, or even just ask her to join him and his friends in the ship for supper. So she had taken it upon herself to tell him why she couldn't go out with him. She had told him very nicely that he was quite good-looking, and certainly he was kind. But that she couldn't be with him because she was, for sure now, attached. Her heart belonged to Fleur, and she couldn't deny it.

So she had told him.

She didn't know what to expect; she didn't know if he would be outraged or upset. She hadn't exactly been taking a risk; most students knew of the relationship, but whether they chose to believe it or not was a whole different matter. It just hadn't been easy watching Krum approach her again and again… It seemed he either paid no attention to the rumours (that were actually true) that floated around, or simply chose not to believe them. Hermione had to admire him for that.

Surprisingly, Krum nodded and accepted it. He told her that, if she'd like, he would still like to be friends – he said he wouldn't expect anything more. And he told her that if she ever changed her mind, he would be there for her. Waiting. Hermione, touched at his understanding, had given him a quick hug and then a quick peck on the lips – and that was the kiss the Prophet got a picture of.

It stunned her how what seemed like a simple, innocent thing at the time could escalate into something so terrible. It didn't seem possible, yet it had happened before her very eyes. She opened her eyes, leaning her head against the couch, willing her pain to disappear.

She hadn't meant to hurt anyone, least of all Fleur.

But she had, and in turn Fleur had hurt her.

What did this mean? Were they even, then? Was there even such a thing as "even" in this case?

* * *

"There must be something," Hermione muttered to herself as she scanned the book again, her nose no more than an inch from the page. She shifted the candle slightly so she could get a better look at what she was reading, though when he glanced at her, Harry thought she might just be reading the same line on the page again and again. Not that Harry blamed her, of course… He felt bad; he knew he should have been working on the Second Task much earlier before, and now Hermione was here helping him… even though she still hadn't gotten over Fleur.

At least it kept her mind off the blonde French witch.

"I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius," Harry sighed as he rested his head on the desk. From beside him he heard Ron agree heartily. He took interest in Hermione's distracted words – she was now explaining the process of becoming an Animagus to him – and finally he relented, "Hermione, I was joking." Another tired sigh was exhaled, and Hermione frowned slightly at her friend, shutting her book with partial disdain.

"Who on earth wants to make their nose hair into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind. Be a talking point, wouldn't it?" a voice said.

Hermione turned to see Fred and George grinning at them.

"What're you two doing here?" Ron asked.

"Looking for you," George began, frowning at his younger brother's tone. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" Hermione started, sitting up a little straighter and looking surprised. She tried to think of all the things she might've done wrong in the past few weeks – besides the obvious. Or maybe… maybe it was because Professor McGonagall had noticed how much she and Ron were helping Harry. That was a definite possibility, and she wondered if that was it. Worry began to fill her; it wasn't his fault… And he hadn't even wanted to participate in the first place.

She and Ron stood to follow Fred and George out, the both of them looking very nervous indeed. They paused to bid goodbye and good luck to their friend, with Hermione promising to meet Harry in the common room later that evening.

But as Harry waited and waited, poring through scores of old books, neither Ron nor Hermione showed up.

* * *

The twenty-fourth of February arrived, and when nine o'clock neared, Fleur made her way down to the lake. The Champions had not been told what time they should be at the lake, getting ready for the Second Task, but arriving half an hour before the task was to begin, she thought, was good enough. She stifled a yawn, wrapping the thick, heavy cloak around her ever tighter as she spotted the gold-coloured judges table and headed over. As expected, the air was chilly, and Fleur was only thankful that the blasted Scottish winds weren't blowing. Merlin knew she would catch her death before she even entered the cold waters. She saw as she approached that she wasn't the last to arrive; Viktor Krum was already there, and she scowled unhappily at him. The two of them were alone – the judges had yet to arrive, and the same could be said of the remaining two Champions, both of Hogwarts. She almost snorted. This was ridiculous. The host school's students obviously seemed to care little for the task that lay ahead… Or was it that Fleur and Krum were just too eager?

Fleur's eyes narrowed as the Bulgarian shifted slightly, watching out of the corners of her eyes as the boy moved to sit on the cold, wet grass. He seemed to regard her for a moment as she stared angrily at him, and just as his mouth opened to form words, Fleur spun around so that her back was facing him. There was nothing she wanted to say to him, and nothing she wanted to hear from him. Even after two weeks the hurt had not subsided – in fact, it seemed only to increase with each passing day. It was hard to acknowledge the fact that Hermione wasn't hers anymore, and that likewise she was not Hermione's either.

She would give anything to be back in the other girl's arms again.

"That picture-"

" _Se taire,_ " Fleur said sharply, effectively causing Krum to pause in his speech. She had heard enough about the picture – what Hermione said replayed in her mind like a tape, and she couldn't get it to be quiet. At least she could get Krum to do so; she knew that he didn't know any French, but she supposed her tone was enough to get the point across.

Besides, she didn't want any explanations – not from _him_ , anyway.

It seemed Krum might have gotten a little exasperated with her, for he didn't bother to say a single word to her after that. The two champions waited in silence, perhaps thinking over their plans for the Task. The minutes passed quickly from there on out, and soon they saw students file into the stands on the opposite bank of the lake. Not long later, the judges approached the table, and Fleur could hear the loud crunching of boots on the cold grass that signaled Krum was getting up. Fleur readjusted her scarf so that it covered her ears as well, watching as the judges took their seats. And then, a few minutes later – it must've been nine-twenty by now – Cedric arrived.

But Harry Potter was still nowhere to be seen.

She sighed as the minutes ticked by and the boy still didn't show up. Sure, he might not have wanted to participate, but the _least_ he could have done was to show up on time so that the rest of them wouldn't have to stand in this cold. The two champions next to Fleur began to shrug off their heavier coats, and Fleur did the same, leaving herself only in her Beauxbatons robes.

She was glad that she had started eating more regularly for the past week; granted, it had been at Madame Maxime's firm suggestion that she do so, but now she knew why. She really would've had caught her death out here, or in the lake, if she hadn't eaten. Wouldn't be able to come out first in the Task – and she had every intention of doing so.

Fleur watched as the judges gathered amongst themselves; perhaps they were truly thinking of eliminating the Potter boy from this task. Because as of now, he was late. But before the judges could reach a decision, Potter arrived at a quick run, stopping only when he reached the banks of the lake – but unfortunately not stopping quickly enough, so that he spattered a spray of mud on Fleur's robes. She frowned at him, but in all honesty she couldn't have cared less about her robes at the moment. She was just angry at him because he was one of Hermione's friends, one of those who frowned at her as she passed.

She frowned as Bagman whispered something inaudible in Harry's ear, and watched as Harry gave some sort of reply, and then began to tense as Bagman moved off to join the other judges. She felt Madame Maxime's grip tighten ever so slightly on her shoulder, and she tried to shrug it off but to no avail. Her headmistress leaned closer in to Fleur, asking if she knew what awaited her.

Fleur nodded. She thought she had the general idea: Get in there, rescue whoever, and then get out. Preferably within an hour.

"On the count of three, then," a large voice – Bagman's – boomed over the grounds. "One… two… _three!_ "

The whistle blew, and Fleur could hear loud cheers rising from the stands. She didn't spare a glance to the other champions, instead pulling her shoes, her socks, and her robes off, revealing a swimsuit. She heard catcalls in the stands, but she was used to that by now and merely took her wand from the wand holster attached to her left leg (courtesy of Madame Maxime), and muttered a quiet incantation, pointing to herself. She waded into the lake slowly, waiting for a few moments.

Then taking a deep breath, she plunged into the icy water.

She could feel the effects of the spell working their magic almost immediately; at first, she wasn't so sure if she had done it right, but when the water began to rush up her nostrils, she suddenly felt something tingle… and all of a sudden she could breathe, and she could see. The filmy bubble that started at the ridge of her nose surrounded the lower half of her face, ending at the bottommost part of her chin. She didn't know what had happened to her eyes, but if all of the books she'd read were right, then the charm had simply allowed her to see underwater and hadn't actually done anything to her eyes.

She started swimming, not really knowing where she was going except down, down, and down… The murky green surrounded her, and for the longest period of time she thought she wasn't moving at all. Once or twice she thought she felt something whiz by her, but when she turned around, there was nothingness. Dread overcame her, and she kicked forward, thinking. She knew from Madame Maxime that the person she had to rescue had to mean a lot to her.

The first person that came to mind was Gabrielle. Come to think of it, she had not seen her little sister at breakfast this morning. She hadn't seen Adrienne either... Although in Adrienne's case, she hadn't been speaking to the girl as of late. Fleur actually hadn't seen much of her recently for obvious reasons, save for in the dorm late at night or in the early hours of the morning. But she really wouldn't put it past Madame Maxime to send her best friend (even if they weren't on speaking terms) to the gloomy depths of this lake, especially if she thought they needed to start talking to each other again. Her headmistress was funny like that.

She was pulled back to reality as something suddenly and forcefully grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her down. Caught off-guard, she shrieked, but all that came out her mouth were bubbles of air that went _blub-blub-blub_ as they penetrated the film that surrounded her mouth and nose and escaped into the lake. It wasn't satisfying at all, not being able to scream and hear herself – but her mind wasn't on that right now. She reached back for her wand, wincing in pain as the creature – which she could now identify as a grindylow – raked its sharp claws against the length of her arm as she grabbed hold of her wand.

"Stupefy!" she tried, and while the regular underwater _blub-blub-blub_ sounded, it was also accompanied by what appeared to be a force that pushed the grindylow back. She hadn't tried spells underwater before, and she had expected a jet of red light, but nevertheless the spell worked well enough, as the creature was propelled backwards and released its hold on her.

But as soon as she had rid herself of that one grindylow, a second, and then a third and a fourth, were upon her. She sent jinxes and hexes at them, using _impedimenta_ a few times and trying to get them off her, and when the last one finally let her go, she pushed forward as quickly as she could, glancing back once to see the creatures stare back at her with displeased looks on their faces, before swimming away.

She stowed her wand back in its holster and swam on, ignoring the pain that coursed through her, pushing on through the light green weed that stretched for a long while, and then over dark mud. Oh, yes. Get in there, rescue whoever, and then get out. If only it really were that easy. After a long while – it could have been around half an hour, she wasn't sure – she started to hear eerie, haunting voices of the merpeople, much like she had when she cracked the egg's code back in the bathtub. Somehow it sounded more… eerily beautiful in real life.

A bit more encouraged at the prospect of nearing her goal, she sped up. The mercity was covered in green algae, and their buildings looked to be made out of stone. She swam past the buildings and saw a few curious faces poke out to stare at her as she passed. Finally she arrived in what she guessed was the town center, and standing there was a large statue of a merperson. And tied down to the tail of aforementioned statue were those that the champions would miss the most.

She swam forward quickly, her eyes searching for blonde hair – but she found none. Only a shock of red hair, wavy lengths of black hair, light brown locks, and a darker brown shock were to be seen. So unless Gabrielle or Adrienne got a last-minute hair-colour change, it meant that neither of them was down here. They were not the ones who Fleur had to rescue. But then who…?

As she drew closer, it became obvious who the person she would miss most was.

She would recognize her soft curves, the shape of her lips, her everything anywhere. She inspected the ropes; they were thick and would be tough to cut – and she didn't want to waste any time trying to find a sharp object. She reached down to her wand, and just when she had been about to mutter an incantation, she noticed someone else right next to her – it was Potter, she saw as she turned towards him - hovering in the water as he pondered what he could do.

She gestured to her wand, but he seemed to take no notice of her. She rolled her eyes; this wasn't the time for petty things as a grudge against her because of his very best friend. Besides, couldn't he see that the girl was her hostage? Shouldn't that mean anything? Then again, she herself wasn't so sure _why_ Hermione was hers to save. Funny headmistress she had, indeed.

" _Diffindo!_ "

She pointed her wand at the rope that held Hermione down, and with more bubbles, the rope was effectively cut. She swam up to the brunette, holding the girl tightly by the waist, but when a half-transfigured shark headed her way, she pushed the girl up quickly, diving down and sending Krum – she knew it was him – a loathing look. His sharp teeth cut into the rope holding down a boy who she did not know very well - she had only seen him a few times in passing, usually with some of the other Durmstrang boys - with just a little difficulty (for a moment she thought he was going to _eat_ his friend), and he swam upwards.

Fleur inwardly reprimanded herself; how could she be so silly so as to let this distract her? Now Krum was going to get up there first… She quickly kicked upwards, leaving Potter behind, and it seemed in that time Hermione had managed to disappear. She swam up and up and up, increasing her stroke, and soon enough she caught up with Hermione – in time to see the girl start paddling, and she surmised she was trying to keep her head above the lake while swimming towards the bank. (How she'd floated up there was anybody's guess; it certainly puzzled Fleur.)

The French witch broke the surface mere moments later to a loud roar of applause and cheers, and she swam alongside Hermione, making her way over to the bank. When she felt the firm ground beneath her feet, she gave a tired sigh and promptly fell back onto shore, sitting there, her breathing heavy. The cold struck her again, but she paid it no attention as Hermione turned to her. She couldn't tell if the girl's expression was one of disgust or joy or just plain resentment, but she didn't get to say a word as Madam Pomfrey bustled along, first wrapping a thick blanket around Hermione, and then turned her shivering frame and did the same, though also clucking her tongue in disapproval.

"Are you okay?" Hermione finally asked as she looked at Fleur and the cuts on her arms and face; not to mention the large rip in the navel area that revealed the pink tone of cut flesh Hermione had noticed when they had first dragged themselves out of the lake. The Gryffindor witch watched as Madam Pomfrey tended to Fleur, who wasn't listening to Hermione and instead was stubbornly insisting, in hushed tones, on something that Hermione couldn't quite catch.

But finally Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Miss Delacour - Miss Granger is fine, I can assure you. Now please let me bandage you up." Fleur turned pink at this and refused to meet Hermione's eye for the next few minutes as Madam Pomfrey finished with her bandages, going back towards the nurse's station and muttering something about injuries and potions. Fleur barely paid the older mediwitch any attention, and when she was aware of a pair of small arms around her, she immediately hugged back, allowing the younger Delacour to settle in her lap. "Gabrielle," she smiled through her exhaustion, placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead.

" _I thought you would never come back up!_ "

Fleur tightened her hug, rocking her sister back and forth and shushing her. " _It's all right, I'm here now, yes?_ " She stood as Madame Maxime helped her to her feet, somehow managing to carry Gabrielle with the blanket around her. She spared a glance at Hermione, who stood as she did. She didn't know what to think, what to say. Who knew that this was where they would be now? They had been so happy, content… And now here they were, cold and shivering yet unwilling to talk to each other. Fleur was afraid of what she might say should she open her mouth to speak with the brunette, and she wasn't sure she wanted to risk it.

Madame Maxime turned Fleur to face her and tapped her wand on the girl's head gently. Fleur looked confused for a minute, but then remembered the Bubble-Head Charm she had cast was still in effect. She allowed her headmistress to remove it, and set Gabrielle down on the ground. The girl hugged her sister at the waist for a long time, refusing to let go and sticking her tongue out at Hermione, which promptly earned her a gentle but reprimanding tap on the arm from Fleur.

The brunette looked at Fleur.

"I was wondering where you were."

Referring, of course, to when she had first surfaced with no one around her and only a chorus of cheering to greet her.

"Trying not to get snapped in 'alf," Fleur responded, deadpan, interrupting Gabrielle – who she was sure, had been about to say something no one here needed to hear. Where her little sister learned such foul words, she never would know. Well, actually, Fleur was certain she was the one to blame for that bad habit.

Hermione raised a brow, but Fleur merely shook her head.

"Look, I-" Hermione stopped when she saw Gabrielle eyeing her.

Fleur bent down to her sister and whispered something in her ear. Gabrielle paused to consider, glaring at Hermione, and then, when Fleur nudged her gently, she went to Madame Maxime, who was now a good few feet away.

"I just can't believe you _slept_ with her," Hermione began, her voice a notch higher than usual, even though she tried to keep it down. "I never, _ever_ slept with Krum!" Her eyes were fierce now as she regarded Fleur, her anger erasing all thoughts of how much she just wanted to kiss Fleur again, how much she ached for her touch – even a simple graze of her hand would have sufficed. But maybe it was better that way, for if Fleur were to touch her, hold her… Hermione knew she would just melt into her arms, and that wasn't the objective here.

" _Slept_ with her?" Fleur's voice was high as well, incredulity lacing her words. "Is _that_ what you think we did?" A pause. "We did no such thing."

Several of the judges, as well as Krum and his hostage, had their attention on the two quarreling girls now. Noticing the new attention on them, the both of them took their conversation further away, where they could not be heard.

"Don't lie to me," Hermione began, and the words came out sounding more like a plea than anything else.

"I am not," Fleur replied softly.

Hermione looked up and met Fleur's blue eyes.

Encouraged, Fleur went on, "I waz just upset, and you are right, it is no excuse, but I thought that… I thought…" She breathed in, trying to gather her thoughts. "I just… seeing you and _him_ …" She paused again. "But I couldn't do it."

Fleur said no more as she suddenly found Hermione very, _very_ close to her. Her heart rate seemed to quicken, and she held her breath. No. This could not happen. Hermione owed her an explanation too – more than just a quick 'it meant nothing.' When she let it out, she breathed in a low whisper, "And what of you and Krum?"

"I told him," Hermione began, "That I couldn't be with him. That's why I gave him that kiss." Then she paused. "I told him… I told him that…"

Fleur didn't interrupt.

"I told him that I loved you." Her breath caught in her throat. "And I still do."

* * *

Who knew that those few simple words could cause her such happiness and lift such a heavy weight off her shoulders? Hermione's words carried the blonde French witch through the rest of the task, and even when Hermione ran to Harry's and Ron's sides as they trudged out of the lake, Fleur didn't mind. She stood there, staring after the brunette, gently stroking Gabrielle's hair as her younger sister rushed over to hug her again.

She went through the rest of the day in a haze – a content, warm, and fuzzy haze, with her mind barely registering the fact that she had managed to get second place in the Second Task – which put her at second place overall. Her fellow Beauxbatons students cheered her as she reentered the carriage later that day and threw her a party. She laughed as the cheering went on, and finally, when night fell, she closed the door to her dorm room and collapsed on her bed, utterly exhausted.

Fleur heard the door creak open but had no strength to see who had entered. But when she felt someone lie down next to her, lean over, and place a gentle kiss on her lips, a smile formed on her features and she whispered, "I love you, too." A light giggle caused her eyes to flicker open and narrow, and she found herself staring at a person who was very much _not_ Hermione.

" _Adrienne?_ " Fleur sounded affronted." _What are you-_ Get off me-"

" _Do you really love me?_ "

" _No, of course not – now get off me, that wasn't for you_ -"

"Fleur?"

 _Oh, Merde, no!_

Adrienne scowled at the intruder, and then at Fleur, and got off her.

"Hermione – zis really is not-" Fleur began, sitting up now, only to be interrupted by a hurt Adrienne.

" _What do you see in her? You've only known her for a few months! I've known you forever. I've loved you forever. Just… forget it."_ To Fleur's horror, she started to tear up, and when she spun around to face Hermione, Adrienne added, this time in English, "You can 'ave 'er. I am done with zees matter." Then she stormed out of the room.

Hermione stared after the girl for a moment, then turned back to Fleur, who looked as though she had just been knocked over the head with a stick.

"How could you?" Hermione started. "How could you do that to her? To me?"

"What?" Fleur managed, thoroughly bewildered now. Sometimes she hated girls; why did they all have to be so confusing? "Do what? I did not do anything!" Fleur wanted to grab Hermione, to make her see that Adrienne had been the one who'd made the first move – that Fleur had tried to get her off. Did Hermione not see that? But then it hit her. Of course Hermione had seen the interaction; the girl just hadn't been able to understand a word of it. It was all spoken in French, and she had just misunderstood… This was all so wrong…

" _Ne pas comprendre,_ " Fleur pleaded, reverting to French – before realizing the English girl did not understand a word, and then repeated, this time in English, "Hermione, you do not understand."

"No, I think I do," Hermione said quite calmly, though her voice held a hint of a cold edge to it. "You were leading us both on." The Gryffindor closed her eyes. "I can't believe I ever loved you." She stared chilling daggers into Fleur's hurt blue eyes. "But I'll _never_ make that mistake again."

Hermione turned on her heel and left like she had those few weeks ago, ignoring Fleur's attempts at explanations, pleas for her not to go, leaving for the second time with a shattered heart, and breaking Fleur's again as well.


	6. The Third Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter 6**

**Chapter 6**

It was as if the world was out to get them. No matter how hard Fleur tried, she could never catch Hermione's eye – not in the Great Hall, and certainly not in the corridors when they passed each other. Everyone – or perhaps it was just Adrienne – seemed determined in keeping the two girls apart. Just when Fleur thought she might have a chance of pulling Hermione aside and explaining to her just what had happened that night, Adrienne seemed to appear out of nowhere and drag her down the hall, or just fill her mind with her increasingly incessant babble. Fleur could not remember a time in which she was more annoyed with Adrienne than she was now; even Gabrielle had grown to dislike her, and she and Adrienne usually got along swimmingly.

Though Fleur knew it wasn't fair to push all the blame on her best friend (though she wasn't so sure if that was what Adrienne was anymore). Hermione's own friends had, albeit somewhat reluctantly, told her that Hermione had no wish to see or hear from her ever again. To which Fleur was quick to point out that doing as such would prove nearly impossible, given the fact that they all attended the same school now, and at the very least would have to see each other during mealtimes. Ginny, who had been the messenger at the time, had merely shrugged and repeated herself, saying she was just doing as Hermione wished. It made the blonde French witch wish that she had such good friends.

Adrienne had once been that good friend, but now the problem lay with her, and Fleur found that she had no one to confide in. Strangely enough, she soon found herself chatting to that Ginny Weasley more and more frequently. Never had she thought that she would find a good friend, a confidant, in the red-haired girl. But over the course of a month Ginny turned out to be pleasant company, and also a reliable source from whom Fleur would constantly pester for more information on Hermione and how the girl was doing. Not that that was the basis of this strange friendship they had forged; it had just been the original _cause_ of the friendship… Now it was safe to say that they were truly friends, if nothing else.

As more weeks passed and April approached, Fleur found herself opening up more and more to Ginny. For the most part the conversations the two of them had been having for the past few months were unsurprisingly mainly centered on none other than Hermione, and very seldom did they graze upon another topic. But Fleur found that lately, she shared more and more of what was going on in _her_ life. She didn't tell Ginny of how much she missed Hermione, as she didn't want to bore the girl, and neither did she tell her of her steadily-declining grades. She hadn't wanted Ginny to think she was asking for pity, because she wasn't.

She just wanted to see Hermione.

Was that too much to ask?

Madame Maxime had told her quite clearly that she was to forget about the brunette; after all, a certain pretty blonde-haired girl had her eye on her, and they made quite a lovely match. " _Perhaps you two could just date for a little while, to get your mind off things._ " But Fleur didn't want Adrienne. Not even for a few days. She didn't and _couldn't_ care for the girl in that way – not when Hermione was there, invading her mind and occupying her every thought. Perhaps she couldn't ever care. When Fleur asked why Hermione had been hers to save and not Krum's, Madame Maxime had simply said, " _She is the one we – the judges - thought you would miss the most. And we were right, are we not, dear Fleur? Even now, with your marks at risk, you refuse to love any other than her."_ The headmistress had smiled slightly, and continued, " _Or maybe you cannot love any other than her._"

Fleur had frowned, although Madame Maxime had looked appraisingly at her. And it was interesting to note that since then, Madame Maxime hadn't bothered her about the situation concerning Hermione. Perhaps her headmistress was truly proud of her – something that, while it had just been a guess, caused Fleur to feel pride, as well as a bit of joy, herself. But perhaps that was because out of the entire Beauxbatons delegation, only Madame Maxime seemed to approve, in that strange way of hers, of Fleur's love interest.

Fleur never did stop trying to talk to Hermione, of course. She still tried to pull her over when she saw her, but time and time again something got in the way. Once Professor Snape had even called her back, warning her that if she kept this up he would have no choice but to ask her to drop the course. Advanced Potions was a serious subject, after all, and he pointedly told her that she could daydream at any other time. That day she missed Hermione as the brunette walked from Defense Against the Dark Arts to dinner, but it was from then on that Fleur started thinking more seriously about her academic performance.

"Evening, Fleur."

Fleur looked up as she was addressed and saw Cho smiling at her. She took the seat next to the Chinese witch, giving a smile of her own as she reached over for a bit of food. Cho Chang was another person that Fleur had gotten to know relatively well in the past few months – she shared a few classes with her, and occasionally they were seen in each other's company. They were by far not the best of friends, though Fleur thought Cho was always good company.

"How were classes today?"

"Zey went well," Fleur replied, swallowing a spoonful of soup. " _Professeur_ Snape told me zat if I do not work 'arder, 'e will throw me out of potions." She betrayed none of her thoughts on the matter, though deep inside she would've withered if such a thing were ever to happen. Despite the Potions Professor's cold and callous manner, Fleur couldn't help but enjoy the subject – it had been one of her favourites ever since she started schooling.

"That's terrible. He can't do that, can he?" Cho asked. Fleur only sighed. "But you _are_ in seventh year Advanced Potions. It's hard work. I'm having trouble, and I'm only in fifth year…"

Fleur smiled kindly; she knew Cho was trying to reassure her, but she knew why her marks were declining – it had nothing to do with how difficult the subject was… Like Professor Snape had implied, her mind had just been wandering during class. And it was hard for her even now to stop herself from searching the Gryffindor table again (the second time that evening), looking for those familiar brown, bushy locks. When she found them, she only allowed herself a moment or two to gaze at the girl, before turning back to her food.

Why did it have to be so hard?

* * *

Ginny knew how Fleur felt, of course. The French witch had never actually said much about Hermione; aside from asking about the girl almost every single day, Fleur had never said anything else about the brunette, save for the occasional compliment that Ginny felt she was holding back from giving. The French girl had never said anything about how much she missed the Gryffindor girl, or that what she wanted, more than anything else in the whole wide world, was just to be with Hermione again. But she didn't need to. Because it was so obvious. Anyone could see the longing, loving look that appeared in Fleur's eyes whenever she stared at Hermione, and anyone could hear the way the French witch's voice would lift ever so slightly when asking about the bushy-haired brunette.

Maybe Hermione was oblivious to it – maybe she _forced_ herself to be oblivious to it, but Ginny wasn't... And the third-year Gryffindor girl had just about had enough of this silliness on her good friend's part. Two months was plenty to hold a grudge. So couldn't Hermione just let it go? If it had been anybody else, Ginny would've agreed – just let the bloody fool die for ever treating Hermione that way – but this was Fleur Delacour. Fleur Delacour, who quite obviously was in love with Hermione Granger. And there was also Hermione Granger herself, who quite obviously was also still in love with Fleur Delacour. They made a perfect match, if only they could have better timing - or perhaps if they could simply stop fighting.

Right now, sitting at the Gryffindor table and helping herself to dinner, Ginny thought Fleur might be scanning the table for Hermione (Ginny noticed this habit a few weeks ago), and sure enough, when she looked up, there Fleur was, staring unabashedly at Hermione. When she met the French witch's eyes, a smile was exchanged. And then Fleur turned back to her meal. Setting her knife and fork down, Ginny turned to her right, addressing Hermione, "Why don't you just talk to her?"

A tense silence fell upon their section of the table. Everything else around them all seemed to grow louder with each passing second, and Hermione thought she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She gripped her fork tightly, frowning slightly when she noticed Ron stop eating to exchange a nervous glance with Harry. Both of them seemed to be trying to catch Ginny's eye, though the girl seemed determined in not looking their way. Hermione chewed on her food, taking her time but knowing that she wouldn't grace the question with a response.

Ginny sighed and repeated herself, ignoring the now-frantic looks the two boys were sending her way, trying to tell her to shut up and leave the matter be. The three of them knew that nothing good would come of bringing up the subject of Miss Fleur Delacour, and that it would only serve to worsen Hermione's mood – so it had always been a silent agreement among them all to avoid the subject like the plague. It was taboo to even _think_ of the French witch, and talking about her was definitely out of the question. But Ginny was sure that Harry and Ron were as sick of Hermione's sulky behaviour of late, but as they were too bloody cowardly to _do_ anything about it, then she would.

After all, it would be for the betterment of them all if they solved this once and for all.

So she waited.

And waited.

And finally, Hermione spoke, "I don't know what you're on about." She said this stubbornly and with force, as though that was all she had to say on the matter, and as though no one should question her any further about it.

No such luck, though.

"Hermione, come off it," Ginny began sternly, "You can't be that daft."

"Honestly-" Harry added, supporting the red-haired girl, "-you must know who she's talking about."

Hermione glared at Harry reproachfully, and he only shrugged nonchalantly.

"You can't not know," Ron chimed in – something that surprised Ginny even more, for she'd thought her older brother was too busy drooling over Fleur to notice their conversation. She couldn't help but smile as Ron went on, "You guys are becoming as bad as a history lesson. I mean, really… There's 'The Fight with Fleur, Part One'; that happened sometime in – I dunno – December, of '94." Hermione glared again, but that seemed only to spur Ron on. "And then there's 'The Fight with Fleur, Part Two,' probably sometime in January… and then 'Part Three' in February! Come to think of it, you two are even worse than the bloody Goblin Wars!"

Harry and Ginny burst out into laughter at this, and Ron allowed a small chuckle as well. Perhaps it was so funny because it was so _true_. Hermione, however, failed to, or perhaps refused to, see the humour in the situation and folded her arms across her chest in a very cross manner. She frowned at her friends, her lips curving down into an unhappy pout. How could they? They were her friends – they were supposed to back her up, no matter what! She couldn't believe Fleur had turned them against her – the sheer nerve the girl had! Her frown deepened and she continued glaring at the three of them until they calmed themselves down.

"You know," Ginny began seriously and a little thoughtfully as the laughs subsided. Hermione thought the girl's voice also sounded a tad tense as though she might be afraid of Hermione's reaction. When the brunette said nothing, Ginny continued on, "She really does miss you." Still nothing from Hermione. "Why don't you just hear her out? I really, really don't think she was trying to snog her…"

This last comment seemed to strike a nerve, as Hermione snapped her gaze to her friend and said, "I know what I saw – and she and her friend were looking cozy… I don't need to hear her out." Her gaze was cold now. "And since when are you helping her out, anyway? Gone over to her side, have you?" She steeled herself for Ginny's response; silence once again claimed them… and Ginny looked rather mad.

"Don't be stupid," the red-haired girl snapped in reply. "All I was saying was, why don't you just give her a chance? I don't-"

"Maybe you should just get together with her," Hermione suggested irritably, "And stop bothering me about her for once. I never wanted your thoughts on the matter anyway." The last bit was rude and uncalled for, but the brunette tried it anyway… She didn't know what the matter with her was, but she didn't like it. Immediately, she looked at Ginny apologetically, "Ginny, I'm-"

"Fine," Ginny cut off her apology. "I will."

Hermione watched as the redhead got up and headed over to the Ravenclaw table, tapping Fleur on the shoulder. Her chocolate gaze followed the two as they headed for the Entrance Hall, and a deep scowl formed on her face. Her eyes fell back onto her food and she stabbed moodily at it, not noticing the glances Harry and Ron were sending each other. _Will what? What was Ginny going to do?_ Hermione didn't know, but she had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't like it. What if Ginny had taken her advice and was doing something with Fleur? After a few long minutes she stood abruptly, deciding to act instead of wondering what in the world was going on, and without excusing herself, she left the table.

* * *

Hermione didn't know what to expect when she entered the Entrance Hall. Part of her had been afraid that Ginny had truly taken her advice, and had ridden off into the sunset with Fleur – well, perhaps not quite that, but Hermione had been afraid that she would find Ginny and Fleur snogging each other. To her utmost surprise, when she strode out, she found Ginny and Fleur in deep conversation with each other. Something much better than what she had been expecting, although now she wasn't sure how to act. It was so much easier just to get mad at Fleur, or get mad at Ginny. But for the moment neither Fleur nor Ginny seemed to notice her presence, and so she stood there silently, her mind working quickly as she calculated what she could do. She looked from Fleur to Ginny, and then from Ginny to Fleur, opening and closing her mouth soundlessly.

"Hermione."

Fleur was the first to speak when she noticed the brunette, and Hermione felt a rush of warmth at the sound of her name flowing from the French girl's lips. Unknowingly, a smile came to settle on her face, and she looked directly into Fleur's eyes. They were so blue – unbelievably so, in fact. And they seemed to sparkle in delight… Must have been something Ginny said. A slight twinge of something uneasy hit her as she wondered what it was that the red-haired girl had said to make Fleur so… cheerful. Hermione had to tear her gaze from the other girl's, and she bit her lip. She turned to Ginny with a frown, which was soon replaced by a helpless look, and Ginny only grinned as she walked back into the Great Hall. Hermione stared after the girl, her mouth hanging wide open – though only for a brief moment, because she quickly shut it again, clearing her throat as quietly as possible.

Trapped! That was what she was; she hadn't wanted to be here at all – not really, anyway - but then Ginny had baited her into leaving her dinner and coming to see where she and Fleur had run off to… And now she was stuck here with Fleur. She couldn't believe she'd fallen for it.

"Can I speak with you, Hermione?"

Fleur sounded hesitant, and Hermione instantly felt like running over to the girl and hugging her, holding her tightly in her arms… She felt like telling her that none of it mattered, and if they could just start over so they wouldn't be as bad as the Goblin Wars… She took a step forward and nodded slowly, and when Fleur didn't carry on, she tried her luck and took another step forward. Then another. And another… And before she knew it, she was standing right before the French girl, standing so close that if she just reached an arm out, she could touch her dream… And she started to do so, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She was so close…

"Fleur!"

She dropped her hand quickly, and spun around to see _her._ Fleur's best friend. She scowled, and only deepened her scowl when she saw the other girl frowning at her. She glanced at Fleur briefly, and noticed that the platinum-blonde witch didn't seem too pleased with the interruption, either. But the moment was lost, and the brunette suddenly didn't feel very warm towards Fleur anymore. Muttering that she had to go, she took off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, trying her best to ignore Fleur's voice as she exhaled what Hermione was sure was a French curseword. But whether it was really directed at her (and she was sure it was) or not (she didn't think it was for Fleur's best friend), she hurried on, trying not to let the tears fall.

She wouldn't cry for Fleur again.

* * *

Fleur heard her name being called out, and watched as Hermione's hand fell limply to her side again. With a slight frown she turned to see Adrienne, heading towards them quickly. The girl had frowned at her – or maybe she was frowning at Hermione – but before Fleur could tell her to go away (yes, even Fleur would have been that blunt; she did not appreciate others trying to cut into her Hermione time, especially since she had hardly spent any time at all with the brunette since their last quarrel), Hermione was already giving an excuse and hurrying away.

Fleur watched as Hermione ran off, cursing loudly in frustration. She knew Hermione had almost kissed her; she could feel it in her being. Her body tingled in anticipation; it still was. Except that she wasn't getting a kiss from the one person she wanted it most from. Not tonight, and quite possibly not ever. Not at the rate they were going. She closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair as she breathed an upset sigh. Why couldn't things go well for her, just for once? It would make a nice change, and fewer people would have to put up with her sad face everyday – she knew her friends were getting tired of it, as she'd overheard them one day at lunch. Whirling around now to face Adrienne, a nasty look came to her face as she rounded on the girl, " _What's the problem now, Adrienne? Couldn't it wait?"_ She didn't even try to hold her anger back this time as she lashed out at her. " _Why can't you be happy for me? Is it really that difficult a thing for you to do?_ "

Adrienne looked as though she might retaliate, but finally she seemed to have lost the courage to do so and merely responded, " _Madame Maxime is looking for you._ " She looked back at Fleur, considering, a hurt look in her eyes. But then she pointed towards the main doors – signaling that their headmistress was expecting Fleur in the carriage located outside, gave Fleur a final sharp look, and then left.

Leaving Fleur feeling very guilty indeed. She didn't know if Adrienne had meant to stumble upon Fleur and Hermione, but whatever the case, the French witch didn't know what to do now. She couldn't keep having Adrienne bursting onto the scene like this; somehow, the other Beauxbatons witch always managed to interrupt a private moment she and Hermione were sharing. Fleur couldn't tell if it was at all purposeful on the other girl's part, but regardless, the blonde French witch didn't appreciate it in the slightest. After all, it was hard going without Hermione for the past few months, and just when she was so close to making up with the girl, the chance had been snatched away. What she felt at this moment was much worse than what she'd been feeling the past few months. If only Adrienne could've waited just a moment or two longer…

Fleur sighed, refusing to acknowledge her anger at her friend as she turned towards the front doors, deciding she might as well head over to the carriage to see what her headmistress wanted. But as she placed a hand on the cool oaken door and began to push it open (or rather, the door began to open itself), she stopped. The warm inside air rushed out, and Fleur was met with a cold gust that blew past her and into the empty entrance hall. She stood there for a minute longer, before abruptly turning around and dashing off, right past the doors to the Great Hall and on towards the staircase, where she had last seen Hermione before the girl had disappeared from sight.

She ran like this for a few minutes through the hallways before finally catching up with Hermione just in time to see the girl standing in front of the portrait that led, when it swung open, to the Gryffindor Common Room. She was inwardly glad that she'd waited for Hermione down here so many times that she knew the way to the portrait, and was even more thankful that the girl hadn't yet entered her common room – otherwise there'd be no catching up with her then. But she seemed to have spoken too soon, for before she could call out to the girl, Hermione had disappeared behind the portrait.

Fleur let out a sigh of exasperation, before slumping against the wall and shaking her head, before making her way back down to the Beauxbatons carriage. At least someone was waiting for her there.

* * *

Time flew by quickly from that evening on, and before anyone could stop it, June the twenty-fourth had arrived. The whole school was busy studying for and taking exams the week before, and now they only had to sit their very last exam before they were free to go – watch the last Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and just run amuck on the grounds before dinner, or whatever they wished to do. Fleur and the three other champions were, of course, exempt from having to take any exams; they had all the time they needed now to prepare for the task that lay ahead, and so there would not be any excuse for their not doing well.

And since Fleur had no distractions, she put her mind and body into practicing hard for this upcoming task. She taught herself many spells, many more than she would have learned in class, and made sure they were all of a different variety so that she would be better-prepared for the task. She didn't know what she might or might not need, after all. She had also found the Four-Point Spell, something she thought she was very lucky to find, for it pointed north, and she could figure out where she was going from there. She had constantly been in the library for the past few weeks, and a small part of her had hoped to catch sight of Hermione, but the girl was always to be seen with either Harry or Ron, most times both of them, and Fleur never had a chance to go over and say a quick "hi." Especially not since Hermione seemed so intent on ignoring her.

Fleur sat at the table the morning of the Third Task, wishing Cho and her Ravenclaw friends good luck on their exams, and finishing her breakfast after they'd all left the hall. Then, putting down her fork, she stood and joined Cedric by the side chamber, wondering when the door would open – or if it wasn't locked in the first place – and so she placed a hand on the door handle and turned. And it swung open. She raised a brow at Cedric, who only laughed and shook his head – which caused _her_ to laugh – and they both headed in.

" _Fleur!"_

" _Maman,"_ Fleur smiled, giving her mother a quick hug before turning to her little sister and giving her a tight hug as well. Gabrielle then returned to her mother's side, holding onto her hand as Fleur conversed with both of them, telling them of what she had been doing lately. Of course, Gabrielle already knew all of this, but Fleur was doing this so their mother could be in the loop as well. While she was talking, her eyes wandered and fell upon Cedric and his family, and then Krum and his parents, and finally Harry Potter and two red-haired people (they must have been related to Ginny and Ronald, Fleur guessed); one a woman, the other a man. She raised a brow in interest; the man was quite attractive, and he had the most interesting earring…

Pity she wasn't interested.

She smiled at Harry, who smiled back at her. At least Hermione's friends weren't mad at her anymore; she didn't know if it was Ginny or Hermione who told them what had happened that evening she and Hermione had "spoken," but Fleur was simply glad they were on speaking terms. Actually, it had been Ginny who helped Fleur prepare for the task during her free time; the younger girl said she did not really mind, and since Harry was getting help from Hermione and Ron, she might just as well help Fleur. Fleur was very grateful for the girl's help, and hoped she could repay the younger girl by doing well in the task. She might be second overall, but if she came out last in the task, she could very well drop to last place.

And the ever-competitive Fleur was _not_ going to let that happen.

* * *

That evening, shortly before dinner, Fleur decided to try her luck and so she headed for the library. But no one was there; she supposed it was because exams were over at last, and there was no need for anyone to be there. So she set off for Gryffindor Tower, and surprisingly, the very person she was looking for was standing right in front of the portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room. She grinned slightly at the sight of Hermione and called to the girl, her voice echoing through the corridor. She watched as Hermione turned stiffly to regard her, giving her a brief nod of the head in acknowledgement before turning back to the portrait.

Fleur felt stung, even though she knew she deserved the treatment she was getting, but when she drew nearer she saw the reason why Hermione hadn't given too much thought to her; the girl was in what was getting to be a heated discussion with the Fat Lady. Both of them were talking rather animatedly, though Hermione did seem quite a bit more cross than the Fat Lady did; in fact, the portrait seemed none too concerned with Hermione's plight.

"My dear, the password has been changed."

"What do you mean, 'the password's been changed'?" Hermione replied, her voice rising a notch higher with every word. She turned briefly to Fleur, then back to the Fat Lady, "No one told me about this." She looked very agitated at this point; her evening was taking a turn downhill; she had been rather relieved to be done with her exams, but now she was absolutely worried for Harry (as well as grudgingly worried for Fleur), and to top it all off she wasn't allowed into her common room! This, frankly, was unbelievable! She glared at the Fat Lady, who only told her to go find a prefect and ask him or her for the new password, and then slumped against the wall. She wasn't going to go run after some prefect she didn't even know; she would just wait until one of her friends, or perhaps another Gryffindor, arrived, and then go in with them.

The only major flaw in this plan was that she was assuming that anyone was going to come up to the common room at all, or that anyone was going to be inside. She knew most Gryffindors were already down in the Great Hall, ready to start eating, and then right after that they would all most likely go straight to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the Third Task. Plus, Fleur was also here – so that meant that she would have to make pleasant conversation with the girl, and she wasn't sure she was ready to do that yet. But if the French witch was quiet, she could bear it… She just hoped that the girl would actually keep her silence – something that was rather unlikely, as it seemed the reason the girl was here in the first place was to _explain_. She bristled inwardly; why couldn't anyone leave her alone for a few minutes? She didn't want to hear any explanations. Not from Ginny (who had been trying to get her to listen), and not from Fleur.

"Hermione?"

Fleur's voice was questioning, and the fragility in it caused Hermione to look up and meet those deep cerulean blues. Her breath caught and she found herself staring at the French witch openly, her gaze wandering from the other girl's eyes to the slight swell in her chest and then to her legs… and then back up again. She shook herself inwardly, forcing her attention onto the matter at hand. She sent Fleur a questioning glance before resolvedly looking back down at the tan stone floors.

"You will not even look at me?"

This time a hint of sadness was in the French witch's voice, mixed in with a bit of impatience. Hermione fought the urge to look at Fleur; if she did again, her eyes would wander _again_ , and only Merlin knew what would happen then. Fleur would have her wrapped around her finger, and anything the French witch desired, well, Hermione would be sure to give to her. And that frightened Hermione; she didn't enjoy the feeling of giving herself completely over. She had done it before, and nothing good had come of it. So she was determined not to do it again.

"It 'as been _months_ , Hermione," Fleur continued, letting her pain show in her voice. She ran her tongue over her lips and looked sadly in the Gryffindor's direction, not sure what else she could say. She took a step forward, wincing visibly as Hermione shrank further away. A few moments of silence passed between them, and then she went on slowly, "I do not know what to say to you anymore." She turned away. "All zat I 'ave ever 'ad to tell you, I 'ave." And since there was nothing more to be added, Fleur turned to leave.

"Oh, that's rich."

Fleur stopped in her tracks as Hermione spoke.

"You think this is easy for me, Fleur? It's not."

"It is not easy for me eezer _(either)_ , Hermione. You will not speak to me, and you will not look at me…" Fleur replied, turning around to face the girl and giving a sigh, "I did not kiss her. Nothing 'appened zat night, Hermione. You 'ave to believe me." She looked at Hermione pleadingly, watching as the girl thought about what she'd said, and restraining herself from stepping forward (though it took all of her strength to do so). She didn't want Hermione to retreat further away from her again.

"I believe you," Hermione finally whispered, but when Fleur's eyes lit up and the French witch made to come forward, Hermione took a step to one side, sliding further back along the wall. Fleur stopped, hurt evident in her eyes, and after a long moment, the brunette slowly said, "But I can't be with you again." It hurt her too much, and she didn't want to have to go through it again.

Neither Fleur nor Hermione were aware of the wail of despair the Fat Lady gave at those words; they were far too focused on each other and their respective reactions to this new piece of information Hermione had thrown out. Fleur looked fiercely at Hermione, and said, "Zat is… _conneries_ – 'ow do you English say - bullshit." A pause. "Is it because you cannot, or is it because you do not want to?" The question hung in the air. "You could at least 'ave told me zat you do not care for me anymore." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, and Fleur added challengingly, "No? Then what is ze problem?" The brunette didn't give an answer. "Well, maybe you were right, _non_? You cannot be with me – you are not even brave enough to tell me why. You Gryffindors are all talk," Fleur's eyes flashed in what could have been anger; she felt she did deserve a reason as to why Hermione couldn't be with her, and she turned away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway, accompanied by the quiet sobs of the Fat Lady, who was shaking her head and muttering, "So sad, so sad…"

* * *

The Third Task was to begin at dusk, and Fleur felt the butterflies flutter in the pit of her stomach as Professor Dumbledore led the champions out to what apparently had been the Quidditch Pitch, but was now converted into a large maze with tall hedges. A mere five minutes later, the stands that surrounded them began to fill with people, and Fleur caught sight of little Gabrielle waving at her. She waved back with a small smile, then turned her attention to the professors as they approached. One of them – who Fleur saw to be Professor McGonagall – spoke up, telling them that the staff would be patrolling outside the maze should one of them run into trouble. So if they just sent off red sparks with their wands, then someone would be on the way to help them shortly.

Everyone nodded to show they understood.

Ludo Bagman sent the staff who would be patrolling around the maze off, and then pointed his wand at his throat, muttering what Fleur guessed could be the _Sonorus_ charm (she wasn't standing close enough to hear), and sure enough, when he next spoke, his voice boomed into the stands, "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand…"

Fleur stopped paying attention and looked up into the stands instead, where there was a loud cheering coming from the crowd as each champion was named. Fleur could just make out the forms of Ginny and Hermione (her heart did a little flippy-floppy thing as she saw the brunette, then she reminded herself she wasn't to be feeling such things anymore for the other girl) – not to forget Ron, of course; she supposed they had been allowed to sit this close because Harry was participating in the tournament. She scanned the stand some more, and her eyes came to rest on Gabrielle and her mother. Gabrielle spotted her and waved excitedly and Fleur waved back in response.

Only when she heard her name being announced with a blow of the whistle – "And next off, Miss Fleur Delacour!" – did she jump slightly and hurry forward.

It was dark in the maze; the darkness even seemed to block out the cheering sounds coming from the crowd outside, and Fleur drew her wand, muttering, " _Lumos_ " as she did so and watching as the light kept away the shadows. She stepped forward slowly, and when she reached a fork in the path she immediately took the left one; best not to think too much about a simple issue. She held her wand out as far as she could so she could try and see where she was going, but it was no use. It seemed that she'd only see things right before she knocked into them; something that didn't comfort her in the slightest.

As she pressed on, she heard Bagman's whistle blow once, and then twice, and knew that all of the champions were in the maze. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she approached the next fork, and she raised her wand warily, looking as far in front as she could but seeing nothing; the beam of light the wand cast only showed a long pathway that certainly seemed empty, and when she tried the other path, she ended up with the same result.

She picked the rightmost fork this time, and just as she turned a corner, a loud noise caused her to stop. She cautiously made her way around the corner, noticing that the ground was steadily growing more muddy and brown, but a confused look came to her face as she saw only a plank of wood that ran the width of the path that was in the way. How strange. Still wary, she approached, but when the wooden plank didn't show any signs of movement, she drew closer. There wasn't any way of her not stepping or jumping over it; the plank was rather wide as well, and she knew she would just have to step on it. But when she did, it moved, and something – its mouth, she reasoned – opened to reveal a row of sharp, white teeth. It got a hold of her ankle, and she pulled it away quickly, crying out as its teeth raked across her flesh and its jaws snapped shut on only her shoe. She was glad that that hadn't been her foot that the creature had snapped down on, and stumbled backwards a few steps. Then pointing her wand to the creature, she yelled, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

Fleur hurried over the creature, which had frozen in its place, and made her way on, ignoring the blood that trickled down her leg and the pain that seared through it as she put her weight on it. The ground slowly lost its muddiness and she paused and took her muddy and bloody sock off, tossing it aside, before walking on. She didn't encounter anything of too much trouble for a while – just a hippogriff she had to get past (which wasn't hard; she just bowed), and a rather mischievous Doxy. Silence surrounded her once again as she left the Stunned Doxy behind, but it wasn't long before she heard sounds of spells being fired.

She didn't pay it any heed until she heard a strangled yell – was it Krum? – at which point she picked up her pace and headed the way the sounds were coming from. She soon found the source of the noise, and was most surprised when she saw who Krum (it had indeed been him) was dueling. It wasn't a creature; it was a professor. Her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, to be exact. Was this part of the task? She hadn't known that professors would be placed in the maze; how unusual. Spells were bouncing back and forth, and Fleur tried to dodge them as she joined in the fray – on Krum's side, of course, as it seemed utterly pointless to try and help the professor.

"Vat- Floor-" Krum was referring to her, of course, as he dodged a particularly dark red bolt of light, "Go! He is trying to att-"

" _Crucio_!"

Fleur gasped as Krum's strangled screams filled the air. Unforgivable Curses were not allowed… Didn't the professor know that? She shakily pointed her wand at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, calling out, " _Expelliarmus!_ " Luckily, the spell hit him fully in the chest, and he was blasted backwards, his wand clattering to the ground not a few feet away from him.

Krum still lay on the ground, fidgeting, but Fleur didn't have time to run over to him for as soon as Professor Moody had hit the ground, he was back on his feet again – this time with his wand pointing directly at Fleur. "Annoying little girl," he spat, and Fleur raised her wand to throw another hex at him. "Your stupid spells are no match for mine." Before Fleur could even _think_ of another incantation, she heard, " _Crucio!_ "

And suddenly her entire body was in pain. She could hear screaming somewhere, but she wasn't sure if that was her own voice, or maybe it was Krum's… The pain was so intense that she thought her mind was on fire, and she just wanted it to end. Her leg was hurting so much more than before, and this time it was a different kind of hurt – but added to the pain she was already in, she wanted to cry out in anguish, but for some reason she didn't think she could. And there was that loud crying noise in the back of her mind; she couldn't understand why it was still there, but didn't bother to. Her mind was swimming, her limbs felt as though they might fall off anytime soon… And as soon as it had come, the pain disappeared. She panted from where she was, curling into a ball, not even wondering when it was that she had fallen to the ground in a heap. The sinister voice addressed her again, and she hated the gruff, cold tones coming from the professor's lips. She wanted to raise her wand and strike him, but her wand was nowhere to be found.

And where was Krum?

"Quite impressive," the voice said. "I never would've thought you, Miss Delacour, would withstand the curse much longer than Mr. Krum here…" She saw a jet of red sparks shoot from the tip of the wand in the professor's hand – her wand, she suddenly realized as she got a better look at it. She pulled herself to her feet, only to have the professor make a strange slashing move with it, one she had never seen or heard of before, and instantly a sharp, hot pain erupted in her side. She looked down to her burning torso to see a line of blood staining her pale blue shirt. She wondered how in the world that would come off, and if her mother could remove it with a simple cleaning spell. And before she could do any more, or think any more, she was shoved backwards forcefully, and saw only a blurry stub that she took to be a wand pointed in her direction, before an incantation was muttered…

… And then all was black.

* * *

Outside the maze a warm breeze blew, ruffling cloaks and hair. Girls, boys, and staff members alike all kept their eyes on the maze – though aside from the four teachers who patrolled the surroundings, no one could see anything that went on down in the maze. The green hedges were far too high and concealed the champions well, and in addition to that an unusual sort of fog had settled on the area, shrouding most of the pathways in a light mist and making it difficult for anyone to see what was going on. Hermione, from where she was seated, wondered if the champions could see where they were going in that mist; it was sure to cloud their vision. And even then, would they even notice? For it seemed rather dark in there as well…

She sighed and glanced over at Ginny and Ron, and then at Mrs. Weasley. The three of them seemed rather on-edge – undoubtedly they were worried about Harry – and, Hermione thought with a considerable amount of jealousy, in Ginny's case, the red-haired girl was certainly worrying for Fleur as well. Logically, Hermione knew nothing could possibly go wrong. There were four perfectly able-bodied professors patrolling the outside of the maze, and if one of the champions got into a spot of trouble, they could simply send up some sort of help signal, if that was allowed – she didn't know. But something nagged at her on the inside, and she couldn't help but worry as well. She just hoped Harry would get out of there soon.

The chattering that had descended on the crowd as soon as the last champion had been sent off suddenly rose to a loud roar, and as Ginny laid an arm on Hermione, pointing towards the maze animatedly, the brunette turned and saw a jet of sparks hovering over one spot in the maze. Not a few minutes later, another set of sparks joined the first one – and those two magically-conjured sparks were in close proximity to one another. Had two of the champions dueled against each other? No, that didn't make sense… One of them would have won the duel if that had happened, and there would only be one jet of sparks, not two. So who were the two fallen champions?

Hermione rose from her seat as most others around her did, trying to see who it was that Professor Flitwick was levitating back. The figure suspended in the air was much larger than the short Charms professor, and if Hermione hadn't known any better, she would have laughed. But as it went, this was not the time to find any such thing amusing, and so she watched as Viktor Krum was laid down on the ground. Around her, students and adults alike were all chattering, and Hermione glanced to her right as Professor McGonagall came out from the maze, and with her was a very familiar figure that made Hermione's heart drop.

No… It couldn't be… But it had to be.

In an instant the brunette was down at the entrance of the maze, barely aware of the protests of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, as she fell to her knees next to the blonde girl's still form, her arms already on her shoulders, and trying to shake the life into the unmoving girl. Nothing happened, and Hermione shook again, her eyes welling up. Not now; Fleur couldn't leave her just yet… She wasn't done with her yet! Shaking the platinum-haired witch once more, Hermione cried, "Fleur…? Don't die, don't die… Please?" She was not paying any attention to the loud murmurs of the crowd behind her as they scrutinized this strange scene. Nor was she paying any heed to the teachers that had, after helping Krum (who was now being tended to by Madam Pomfrey), all gathered around her. She didn't notice Fleur's sister and mother hovering worriedly over her as well. "I love you, I really do, please come back…"

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione paid this voice no mind – it was Professor Dumbledore – and instead she hugged the girl to her tightly, not minding the cold sweat on the other girl, nor the mud that was caked onto her stiff form.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore repeated, this time a bit more sternly - though he never once showed any sign of losing patience with Hermione. "I assure you, Miss Delacour is not dead. Just Stunned, I believe."

Hermione let go of Fleur abruptly, and the girl dropped to the ground with a soft _thump_ – which caused Hermione to wince. Oops.

"Oh. Right. Well, then. I take back everything I said."

It wasn't clear if she was talking to Fleur, or to Professor Dumbledore, but even the Headmaster looked exasperated for a moment. Then he leaned over towards Fleur, and tapped her gently on the head with his wand. " _Ennervate._ "

Hermione watched as Fleur's form immediately seemed to relax; yes, it seemed the girl had been Stunned, after all. A feeling of relief washed over her, yet she felt her cheeks start to burn a deep red as she realized how silly she had been to think that Fleur was dead. Of course the girl wasn't dead – nothing like that could ever happen at the Tournament, could it? She suddenly remembered reading on tournaments of previous years, and how champions had died before and felt a little less stupid. But not by much.

She was brought back to earth as Fleur stirred next to her, the French witch's fingers somehow managing to find hers, and twining them together. Hermione looked down, and was startled to find that the girl's eyes were already open and staring right into her chocolate brown ones. The breath caught in her throat like it had done long ago, and there was a brief moment that passed between them – where none of the world mattered, and it was just them – and when it was over, Fleur croaked out, her voice hoarse, "Hermione."

"Fleur," Hermione whispered back, a smile forming on her lips.

"Do you really take back what you said?"

It took Hermione a minute to remember what she had last said, and she smiled sadly and shook her head fiercely. "No," she replied stubbornly and crushed Fleur in a hug. "I meant every word of it." Fleur gave a content sigh and hugged her back gently, but the French witch soon was struggling again, pushing Hermione away. Hermione looked apologetic for a minute, and then said, "Sorry." She'd forgotten that Fleur might need some air to breathe, after whatever it was that she had been through (it looked difficult, and it certainly looked as though she had been in a lot of pain). She had forgotten, simply, that Fleur was actually injured. Her shirt had soaked up some blood, Hermione had noticed, and her leg did not look to be in good shape either. And to top it all off, the girl was covered with mud, especially around her legs.

Funnily enough, one of her shoes was missing.

"What happened to your shoe?" Hermione inquired curiously, reluctantly letting go of Fleur's hand, as Madam Pomfrey helped Fleur to her feet, leading her towards the first-aid station, where Krum was already seated.

Fleur looked wryly at Hermione before she left, her exhaustion evident in her eyes, and then replied, "A dugbog ate it."

* * *


	7. The Last Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Seven**

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione tried not to get in the way as Madam Pomfrey led Fleur, as well as Krum, up to the Hospital Wing later that evening. Even though she wanted simply to hold Fleur in her arms, she contented herself instead with clutching onto the girl's hand. Frankly, she was surprised the French girl could even walk with those bad injuries – Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to fix her up properly, and Hermione was sure the girl was in a great deal of pain. But she didn't fall over herself as they walked on. In fact, the older teenaged girl even looked graceful as she took painful steps towards the infirmary; Hermione smiled at the sight, and held Fleur by the waist as the girl leaned more of her weight on her.

The brunette took in a deep breath, contemplating silently as they walked towards the infirmary. So much had taken place that evening, and although Fleur was quite badly wounded, the girl was here to comfort Hermione. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't Hermione supposed to be comforting Fleur, after what she had been through? But Hermione couldn't help it – yet another disastrous thing had happened to Harry… She didn't know why her best friend had come back with the dead body of Hogwarts' other champion, but he had. And Hermione was very, very shaken by this. When she glanced at Fleur, she noticed the girl freeze up slightly, as though hardening herself. As though she had expected this. The thought caused Hermione to feel sick and afraid, but she pushed it away. It was silly to think that Fleur had killed Cedric Diggory – or that she had known for sure that Cedric was going to be killed. The Fleur she knew would never do such a thing.

Hermione had tried to get through to Harry shortly after that, so that she could ask him what had gone on, or at least just be there for him. But before she could… she found that he'd disappeared from sight, and when she tried scanning the crowd for him she was met only with a blur of students, staring back down at her. This didn't sit well with her, and she wanted to go find him, but she didn't know where to start. However, she was saved from doing anything, for right then Madam Pomfrey came, telling them to make their way up to the infirmary. So half-heartedly she went along with Fleur – half-heartedly not because she didn't care about Fleur, but because she was worried for Harry. But perhaps he would already be in the Hospital Wing…

"Miss Granger?"

The voice was kindly, and Hermione looked up suddenly into the questioning face of Madam Pomfrey. A brief glance-around told her that she had arrived in the Hospital Wing already, and she wondered how she could have missed the entire walk from the grounds up to this little wing in the castle. Perhaps she shouldn't allow herself to get lost in her thoughts… What if she ran right into a wall because she wasn't paying any attention to where she was going? Then she, too, would've been hurt, and she would've had to have Madam Pomfrey tend to her as well. And the mediwitch already had enough on her plate as it was. Hermione sighed, making herself listen to what the school nurse was now saying.

"Would you be so kind as to bring Miss Delacour to the second bed over there?" The brunette looked in the direction that Madam Pomfrey was pointing and nodded. The nurse smiled gratefully, and turned to Viktor Krum as she continued, supporting the boy and leaving Fleur with Hermione, "Now Mister Krum, right this way…" And she started off in the same direction, helping the Durmstrang boy along, but stopped at a bed that was a few places down and on the opposite wall from Fleur's. Hermione watched until she started to settle Krum down in his bed, before turning to Fleur, who was getting heavier on her arm and looked to be on the brink of fainting.

Quickly – and almost apologetically – Hermione led Fleur to the bed Madam Pomfrey had pointed to, and busied herself with getting Fleur comfortable. As soon as Fleur'd gotten into the bed, Hermione tucked the sheets around the girl, smoothing her dirty blonde locks down and pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. She couldn't help but smile as Fleur did, a sense of peace settling over her as she watched the girl silently. She sat on the edge of the French witch's bed, giving Fleur's hand a squeeze, smiling again when Fleur looked at her with a tired smile. They stayed like that for the next few minutes, until someone tapped Hermione gently on the shoulder, and addressed her quietly, "Miss Granger, if we may 'ave a word alone with Fleur…"

Hermione tensed briefly, but nodded wordlessly. Giving Fleur's hand another squeeze she got up, moving over to allow Madam Maxime – as well as Professor Dumbledore, Fleur's mother, and Fleur's sister – some room to stand by Fleur's bedside… She saw Gabrielle jump onto her sister's bed and give the girl a large hug, and a smile formed on her face. Then she turned away from the scene… only to gape when she saw who was at another bed not too far down, surrounded by no one but red-haired witches and wizards.

It was Harry.

She rushed over immediately, wondering how in the world she could have missed his arrival and pushed her way through the Weasleys so she could see him. "Harry!" she exclaimed and flung her arms around him. When she pulled back, however, she was a bit more somber and frowned slightly, not knowing what to think now. She wasn't going to bring up the subject of Cedric Diggory – she had decided since earlier that it would be rather crude of her to do so, and it would probably only upset him. And aside from looking a bit pale and worse for the wear, he looked… okay. "Are you– How _are_ you?"

"Tired," he sighed as he sank back into the pillows. Hermione nodded; he did sound exhausted. But she didn't say anymore, and just watched as Mrs. Weasley gave him a cup of potion for dreamless sleep and encourage him to drink more. She wandered at this point, over to the window, where she saw a curious little ladybug perched on the windowsill. Suddenly she was reminded of what she had researched on that ever obnoxious reporter, Rita Skeeter, not too long after her falling-out with Fleur. She slapped a hand down quickly, causing her fingers to strike the window, but she easily ignored the stinging pain and brought her other hand to help her catch the ladybug without doing it too much harm.

"Sorry," she muttered as she realized that Harry and the Weasleys were staring at her curiously. She shook her head apologetically, to show that it didn't matter, and glanced over at Fleur, who was now very much alone, as the Weasleys turned their attention back to Harry. She watched as her best friend took his potion, and before long he had fallen asleep. The Weasleys looked in her direction, as though to make sure she was all right, and when her well-being was confirmed, took their leave.

Hermione was left alone with Fleur – something she was very grateful for, but before she could go over to the French witch, she needed a little glass bottle for the ladybug she had just caught. She found an empty one in one of the drawers nearby, and with out Madam Pomfrey's permission, she took it and let the beetle crawl in. Though that took a while, as the beetle seemed rather reluctant to go in. However, she managed to get it in, and snapped the lid on with satisfaction. Slipping the small vial into her robe pocket, she walked over to Fleur's bed and gathered the girl's hands in hers.

Noting the curious look on Fleur's face – undoubtedly regarding the vial she needed – Hermione merely shook her head and added soothingly, "I'll tell you tomorrow." A pout started to form on the French girl's lips, and Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes and laugh. She was aware of the exhaustion the girl was feeling; it was plainly evident in her eyes. Squeezing Fleur's hands once more, Hermione smiled, "Tell you what. I promise I'll tell you tomorrow if you go to bed now, all right?" A pause. "And maybe you can tell me what Madam Maxime and Professor Dumbledore wanted with you." Fleur's face darkened at this – which definitely was not the reaction Hermione had been expecting, and she hastened to add, "If you want, of course." She sighed, then handed the dreamless potion on the bedside table to Fleur, saying, "You'd best get some sleep. Here, take this."

And she watched as Fleur drank the potion down and helped fluff the girl's pillows as she proceeded to settle back down in her bed. Not a minute later and the French girl had fallen asleep, leaving Hermione to squeeze her hands again and place a lingering kiss on her forehead, never taking her eyes off Fleur's face.

She couldn't believe she had once almost given this beautiful French witch up.

* * *

Fleur awoke the next day, her head throbbing painfully. She groaned, shifting in her bed and messing up the sheets, vaguely aware of a slighter form next to her stirring. She blinked a couple of times, and found herself staring into those chocolate brown eyes she had grown so familiar with. She forced a smile but slumped back into the pillows behind her, her slender, scratched arms reaching around Hermione's waist and tightening their hold on the brunette.

To her dismay, however, Hermione wriggled out of her grasp with slightly reddened cheeks and regarded her with a seriousness that caused her to worry. Neither Fleur nor Hermione seemed to have the intention of speaking, even though Hermione still wore that serious, concerned look that caused Fleur herself to worry. But the both of them seemed content in listening to the silence that surrounded them while lying in the warmth of the hospital bed. Finally, Hermione slid off the side of the bed and turned back to Fleur, asking worriedly, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Only a little bit," Fleur admitted with a slight sigh, glancing out the window. "But I will feel much better soon, _non_?" She tried to smile brightly, and Hermione seemed to buy it, for she too smiled back in reply. But after a little while, Hermione's smile faded, only to be replaced by a sad frown that only deepened when she glanced at Fleur. Noticing this, Fleur tried to catch Hermione's gaze, but to no avail. In the end she spoke tentatively, "Why do you look so sad? Is anything wrong, Hermione?"

Hermione hesitated.

And then, with a smile, "No."

It was a lie, of course. But Fleur didn't press the subject any further, perhaps due to her belief that Hermione wouldn't lie to her, and would certainly tell her anything of importance. But the truth was that after Fleur had gone to bed, Hermione had gone to the Gryffindor Common Room shortly – just to see Ginny – and on her way back from there, she had bumped into Professor Dumbledore. He'd told her about Fleur… About how the girl, like Viktor Krum, had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. As if that wasn't bad enough, a nonverbal spell had also been used on her and as of yet, Madam Pomfrey had little idea what the spell was, or what its effects were. The only thing the mediwitch knew for sure, Professor Dumbledore had said, was that the wound inflicted upon Fleur was proving most difficult to heal; no amount of potions seemed to heal the bleeding gash.

Of course, Hermione understood that she wasn't to confront Fleur with what she had just learned; at the very least, she would have to wait until some time had passed – until the girl felt stronger and more ready to retell her tale for a second time. As was to be expected, the French witch, the Headmaster said, was rather upset with the entire ordeal. And though Hermione wished Fleur would have confided in her first, she knew better than to be petty and allow this to be the cause of another argument. Fleur would tell her, but in her own time. The French teenager had gone through a lot – what many witches and wizards never had experienced, and never would. She was an incredibly brave individual; Hermione didn't doubt it for a second.

"I think," Fleur began slowly, eyes trailing over Hermione's form and gently bringing the Gryffindor out of her thoughts. She paused momentarily to press down on her temples, and continued, "zat after I get somezing for zis headache, we can go for breakfast downstairs."

"If Madam Pomfrey will let you," Hermione replied, doubt in her tone – though her face shone with delight. She hoped Madam Pomfrey would let Fleur come down to breakfast; it was the last breakfast of the school year, and she would like to spend it with Fleur. However, she pushed Fleur back onto the hospital bed with a stern look as the girl tried to get up. "You stay right here. I'll go get her."

Fleur stuck her tongue out at Hermione, folded her arms across her chest, but settled back into her bed as she awaited the school nurse's arrival.

* * *

As things turned out, Madam Pomfrey refused to allow Fleur to leave the Hospital Wing for breakfast that morning, insisting that Fleur stay in bed to mend properly. After all, the French girl was still bleeding, and it would do her no good to bleed all over the bloody school, would it? But by early afternoon, Fleur's wound seemed to have stopped most of its bleeding, and so after bandaging the girl's torso up with fresh bandages, Madam Pomfrey reluctantly allowed Fleur to go attend the Leaving Feast – with strict instructions that the girl come back right before returning to her carriage in Beauxbatons to return to France, just to get more potion for the blood in her, so she wouldn't feel so faint.

Fleur sat, for the first time, at the Gryffindor table with Hermione. It seemed that students had gotten wind of what happened to Fleur and Viktor, and many of the Gryffindor students tried to ask Fleur what exactly had happened – what was true and what was not – but they were silenced by harsh glances from Hermione. Ron was busy fending off other curious students who were trying to bother Harry with what he had seen the night before, and once when Fleur caught Harry's gaze, the both of them exchanged a look of exhausted amusement.

When Professor Dumbledore spoke of Cedric later during the feast, Fleur caught sound of a choked sob from nearby and looked up sadly, knowing who it was before her blue eyes even fell upon the girl. It was Cho, and Fleur felt a rush of sadness for the Ravenclaw, wishing she were sitting next to her so she could comfort her. Cho had loved Cedric – liked him a lot, at the very least, and Fleur couldn't even begin to imagine how it felt to lose someone she cared for that much. She felt her hand being squeezed and looked over to see Hermione smiling at her. Her heart fluttered of its own accord, and she squeezed the hand in hers back.

No. She didn't know what it felt like to be Cho, and neither did she want to know. All she knew was that Hermione was the only one who could make her feel this way and that to lose that would be devastating. That was the closest she could relate to Cho's feelings at the moment; she didn't know any other way.

Hermione, on the other hand, knew a little more about losing someone. Or almost losing someone. When she saw Fleur's body being carried out onto the green, she thought she had lost Fleur forever. Even through all their arguments, Hermione'd always cared for Fleur, loved her even. And though they had broken up, Fleur had always been there – an everlasting presence, or so it seemed. When she thought that Fleur had gone from her forever… it felt as though a piece of her had been unwillingly ripped from her and never would mend.

She didn't want to think about this summer, how she would have to be separated from Fleur again when they had just made up.

"Remember Cedric Diggory."

Professor Dumbledore's voice echoed across the large hall, and Hermione looked up briefly from her thoughts, before repeating the same words in a quiet mutter. Then she turned to Fleur and gave her fingers yet another tight squeeze, watching students get up and leave the Great Hall and following them not too long after, supporting Fleur along the way.

* * *

"So are you going to tell me what it is that you put in zat bottle of yours?"

Hermione grinned slightly at Fleur's query, nodding her head. With one arm still around Fleur, she used the other to pull out a small bottle from her robe pocket. Then she held it out to Fleur, whose brow furrowed while she scrutinized the tiny creature in the bottle.

"A ladybird?" Fleur questioned. "Why did you catch this ladybird?"

"Don't make fun," Hermione warned, the incredulous tone in Fleur's voice not lost on her. In response Fleur tried her best to hold back a light laugh. "It's not a ladybird." At Fleur's dubious 'who-in-the-world-are-you-kidding' look, the brunette sighed and corrected herself, "I mean, it's an Animagus." Fleur looked surprised at this, though she was still unsure in which direction Hermione was taking this conversation. "Well, it's Rita Skeeter, to be exact."

"What?"

"It's how she's been getting all her stories – see? She's so small that she's almost unnoticeable," Hermione explained patiently. "It was something Harry said, really, that made me think of it."

Fleur looked very impressed, and handed the bottle back to Hermione, who put it back in her pocket. "But how did you know her Animagus was a ladybird? – did you check the registry?"

"She's not a registered Animagus. But it wasn't hard to figure out – I just put a few clues together."

Fleur looked fondly at Hermione, who flushed at the attention she was getting.

"And… can I ask about last night?" Hermione asked slowly, hesitantly.

"I would rather not talk about it," Fleur replied, though she sounded more like she was pleading Hermione not to bring it up.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, but Fleur shook the apology off just as they arrived at the Beauxbatons carriage. "Well, here we are. I'll see you later? Before you go?"

Fleur nodded, smiling, "Yes."

* * *

Hermione had her trunk packed in the space of a few minutes, and when she had finished, she rushed downstairs so she might catch an extra few minutes with her dear more-than-friend, Fleur Delacour. It didn't take long for Hermione to spot the French witch, and when she did, she made her way over quickly. They embraced, tightly, and did not let go for a long time. When they finally did break apart, Fleur noticed that Hermione's eyes were watering over.

"Do not cry, Hermione," Fleur said softly, caressing Hermione's cheek.

Hermione bit her lip and looked away, as though ashamed. Then steadily, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm trying not to. But…" She didn't even know how to begin expressing the pain she felt whenever she thought of Fleur returning to her home in France… How was she going to survive the summer like this? She looked into Fleur's eyes, and kissed the girl chastely on the cheek.

Fleur laughed, and Hermione looked offended.

"Zat is 'ow I would kiss Gabrielle, Hermione," Fleur grinned despite herself; the look on Hermione's face after Fleur had spoken was priceless. The French witch leaned in closer to Hermione, allowing the tip of her nose to brush against Hermione's, blonde locks tickling the other girl's face as she drew in closer… until her lips finally met the other girl's in a passionate kiss. Her hands came up to tangle themselves in brunette strands, and when they broke apart, their breathing was slightly heavier. "And zat…" Fleur began softly, "Zat is 'ow I would kiss you."

Hermione felt her breath catch, but before she could come up with a reply, footsteps were heard coming their way. The first of the students was arriving, and although by this point their relationship was far from secret, Hermione preferred not to do this all in front of others – she never really was good with public displays of affection. Pulling from Fleur, she allowed one last, sweeping glance before she turned her attention to the others that were arriving, a few of whom were her friends from Durmstrang.

Fleur did the same, and turned to her friends that she had made this year, bidding them all a good summer and farewell. She gave them hugs and promises to write, watching Hermione out of the corner of her eye at the same time. She wondered if she and Hermione would actually correspond over the summer, or if this was as far as they could take their relationship. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, and as much as she wanted to keep in touch with Hermione, she knew that the summer would change things. It always did.

But when the two girls, blonde and brunette, turned to each other to bid each other goodbye and farewell, they could say nothing for a long while. Fleur finally placed a finger below Hermione's chin and tipped her face upwards, pressing her lips onto the other girl's, their tongues coming together for what felt would be the last time. Fleur didn't want to break the kiss; she wanted to savour this moment. And when they did come apart, Fleur pressed the side of her cheek to Hermione's giving the girl a tight hug, then stepped back.

At this moment, Adrienne showed up – much to the displeasure of both girls. But it seemed the other French girl didn't like intruding on them as much as they disliked her company, and with a quick glance of acknowledgement to each of them, she spoke, "Fleur, it's time to go." She tilted her head in the direction of the carriage, and then, message delivered, walked away to find another Beauxbatons student to deliver the news to.

Hermione was the first to speak after this.

"You promise to write this summer?"

"I promise," Fleur replied honestly. "And you too?"

"Me too," Hermione promised, her face earnest. After a little while, a frown began to form; she noted that the French girl before her looked a bit paler than before, even though she had just been to see Madam Pomfrey. And Hermione suddenly found herself wondering if Fleur would ever be okay.

"Do not worry, Hermione," Fleur smiled, as though reading Hermione's mind – or maybe just her facial expression. "I am a Delacour. I will be fine."

And with that, Fleur sent Hermione a final smile, and turned towards the Beauxbatons carriage, comforted by the fact that if nothing else, she would get to hear from Hermione this summer.

Just that was enough to keep her going.

 **The End**

 ****

* * *


End file.
